From the sound of her combat boots echoing through the seemingly empty hallways,
To the gentle lines of black makeup carefully lining a fraction if her upper eye lid,
She was their ideal.
To others, she seemed
Carefree.
Hopeful.
Confident.
Positive.
Mysterious.
Oh, but what a mystery she was.
Carefree was far from what she could ever be.
She spent all her waking hours
Worrying about every little thing crossing her mind.
Hopeful?
This poor girl couldn’t even see a future for herself.
She was quite the opposite of hopeful.
Confidence is something she truly lacked,
For she felt nothing short of worthless.
Positivity was something she gave to others,
But not to herself.
She was quite mysterious.
Everyday,
She put on a mask
And performed a play
Of the perfect girl
She was supposed to be.
The one who was inspiring,
The one who stayed strong.
The one who had hope,
The one who never stopped smiling.
They never saw who she truly was
When she dropped the act and the curtains closed.
They never saw her
Late at night
In her weakest moments,
Crumbling on the tear flooded floor,
Silent sobs escaping her lips.
She was the best actress
That nobody knew they knew.
Porcelain Prose 