Without make-up, everyone says
I look bone-tired and weary
Scared and lonely like the face
Of a girl who has lived too long.

Though still in my youth, my eyes
Droop down my face, sliding towards
The cool earth, their ever nearing grave

Black superficial shadows no longer
Holding them in place; I return
To the face of a child, but ensconced
Within me are one-thousand years of age

A deep secret only seen through
The portals that bring visions to my head:
I'm half-dead with the worries and fears
That I deny that anytime someone asks me

Yet with black painted on my face,
I somehow shed this image, replacing it
With the normal, happy, human girl
Who everyone sees but me.

05/26/2008

Posted on 05/26/2008
Copyright © 2024 Amanda Bullington