False Skin

like shards of glass piercing,

As these kindred eyes glare;

A young girl’s voice whispers,

Her hand upon my shaven hair.

My lonely sobs into Mother Nyx’ sky,

The sharpened edge deepening the red lines;

Reminding that I’ll never be alike,

The Self-imposed horrors of my counterfeit confines.

The feeling of loss,

Upon my wronged soul,

Plagues my misguided mind,

Feeling like I’ve lost control.

A collection of broken masks,

Laid out in lined rows;

A museum of countless facades,

Their worried thoughts dispose.

This uncaring world is so cruel,

The unwanted stare of judging eyes,

The unknowing frowns of disapproval,

My feeble unsubstantiated guise.

My clothes don’t feel right,

My body broken and battered;

I feel like my life is an unending fight,

This mirror of mine has shattered.

The fight for support and validation is unending.