masterpiece

i'm that kind of person who will muffle my cries inside a bathroom stall

She keeps a smile
Painted
While weaving her way through
The crowd
And she tops the dull, blank canvas
With myriads of dynamic
Colors.
Because everyone thinks art is
Pretty�"
An ordered chaos
Of aesthetic fallacies.
Eyes roam from an art to another,
Briefly admiring
Its distant beauty
Then move on to the next one
As grace fades with time
And so the essence�"
The life behind that forgotten masterpiece,
Becomes a sliver of thought
Forever buried.
So is her agony,
An untold story of torture
Passes
Unnoticed
In the sea of fairy tales.
She tries to hold it in
As silently as the impending
Catastrophe
Threatens to fall.
Because a bird tries to soar
After falling and tries to be invincible
But scars are
Reminders and
will forever remain as
a vulnerable point�"
an inconvenient hole to peek in your
soul.
Still, she tries to fix the
Smudged paint tainting her soul
But once white turned black
Cannot be retained.
Once darkness slushes in
It cannot be controlled.
But an actress is also an artist
Who turns feelings into
Actions
So she smiles,
A beautiful ethereal smile
That rips her
Heart
Along with her
Sanity.
She smiles,
And backs herself into the corner,
A thin unnoticeable line
Between space and time
She smiles
Until she manages to be alone
Locked up,
Confined, Saved
By the sanctuary of four narrow corners.
She clutches her heart
Tightly
So she will not accidentally
Flush her soul
With the black slug in her guts.
For a fraction of time,
She finds herself
At peace, alive
Existing,
Without worries.
There she stands,
Silently
As tranquil comfort wafts through
The still air.
Her Heart beats finely,
As if it is comforting her,
Because the only one
Who can give her
Warmth
Is her own soul.
A soul at peace,
Ripped,
As someone’s shadow passes by
Flinching,
Again she cries
And swallows her insanity.
She exits her comfort,
And feels her steps
Click heavily with dread
And take her life away
As trails of wild roses
Wither
At her wake,
As if to blame her of murder.
Because she was dry of tears
And had no more
To shed
She finds her existence
Slowly,
Being seeped of life.
And she gazes with
Tired, empty eyes
But smiles professionally
Like an actress in sight.

Author's Note

i think i went a little extra dramatic here than i usually do
(((this is just me crying inside a stall in a CR in my school loool)))