Hurt cannot be erased.
Damages cannot be simply plastered over with the
"I'm fine" and "Good thank you" when everyone asks how you are.
"Lie" and thus you do. Because everyone wishes to pretend.
Like a child playing make believe with their stuffed toys or dolls, this world is perfect, and we are happy.
But
What if we're not?
Like a doll, we dress ourselves and dance, a smile permanently etched into our faces.
"Everything is fine, I am happy, look how happy I am"
But inside the wood of this doll, is rot, and we are famished for the make believe to become reality.
Cutting the plastic from our core, no-one is ready for the ugliness we hold inside.
It is disgusting, and as they all turn away, we hurriedly melt more plastic and wear it like a skin.
Creeping from the shadows, we are loved once more.
And the nightmares
They worsen as our inner disease destroys us.
