Concealed

Such a pretty mask,
The critics declare.
With deep, hazel eyes,
And skin oh so fair.

Turn this way and look,
Smile over there,
Continue to move--
Just don’t mess the hair.

Guarded by the mask,
Protected by paint,
Her breath is relief,
For no one can taint

Her distance from all.

Such a pretty mask,
The critics declare.
With deep, hazel eyes,
And skin oh so fair.

Under the surface,
A world lays unknown,
Of innocence—lost,
Loneliness condoned.

An onion is she,
One layer a time,
Reveals her true self;
As one starts to climb--

She pushes away.

Such a pretty mask,
The critics declare.
With deep, hazel eyes,
And skin oh so fair.

Desired is change,
To began anew,
Yet her self remains,
And actions construed

An aching inside,
A yearning for more,
All notions within,
Forever will war,

Though hid’n by the mask.