She Wears A Heavy Mask
She wears a mask upon her face, she blends to the crowd. Fading like white paint upon a white wall. Alone, inside her head she speaks of wondrous things. Of places that do not exist but in her heart. But dare she speak of such things or shall she be casted from the crowd. Ridiculed for her ridiculous words.
She is no fool to the agony of rejection, she knows it well. And in this tormented chest of hers, she finds escape in the lining of her imagination. Crossing lines of great architecture of the mind. Creating whimsical stories that glare with such might.
Alone, in her mind she is the queen, the king, the soldier, the creator. She bears all powers to make what she will. And in this mind of hers, she wears no mask. She is the red rose among a rotten field.
She is the brightest star among the darkest nights. Her eyes twinkle with excitement as she laces her fingers through the lush fields of her heart. Leaving no inch of it unknown, she reaches beyond the moon of her heart. She listens to each beat as if each is a new day.
But in the world of hers, it is only her. And again, she fades to the colors around her. Though she is vibrant in her mind. These beautiful thoughts have no place to go. They travel no further than the bones of her head. Pleading to escape, pouring with excitement to be.
But again, the criticism of her mind and those who whisper among her, burdens her heavy, weighing all expression inside. Pulling down a mask she finds this to be easier. She finds hiding among the halls of the plain to be safer than stepping across the burning coals of uncertainty, of pain.
So, she kneels to the grinning teeth of those who slur their words before her. Those that walk with coarse hearts and vulgar tongues. She finds this to be simpler, than the uncaging of herself.
And in the decision of the simple, her thoughts find no sustenance to flourish. Slowly they die from the lack of opportunity. They become abandoned to her once ever expanding univerese.
They shrivel to dry lands of fear, becoming ever so weaker with each breath. And as they dwindle as the sun does upon the horizon. This girl becomes dull in her existence, she becomes resentful to her own lips. She builds no more of the heavenly, but the conventional, the ordinary, the average.
And now her thoughts, bear no more than the colors she sees before her. No more does she blend to the hues of her heart, but rather, she disappears into the existence of life.
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