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Soft, simple strokes on the canvas. The paintbrush placed a shade of delicate lilac on the once off-white board. Orchids are my favorite kind of flower... They kind of remind me of myself. Orchids, the Romans had considered them as the flowers of love and seduction. Then again, maybe they just remind me of my facade. My masquerade mask; one that is super-glued to that face of mine and will certainly not come off without excruciating pain. Hiding behind lies, hate, lust... The mask glimmers with fake jewels, adding more sequins every time I'm fooled with. With every lie I whisper, it adds laces and ribbons. The outside only grows more beautiful everyday; the inside remains the same, a beautiful, smooth champaign shade.So elegant, yet so plain.
No one sees me when I draw, or when I paint, because that's when the mask slides off. I see so clear, and my heart feels so right in it's state of mind. I can put on a real smile and be myself, not force that ugly actress' face on top of my own. Everything I have left of myself is slowly fading. I don't want to become this 'perfect' girl. When I am on the deck, painting, I am imperfect... and it is beautiful.
Me? I'm like a mannequin. People play with me and twist me around. Somedays my hands are up, some days they are down. Some days people will change my clothes, some days they will leave me naked. My expression never changes. I will never speak, I will never argue. My body will never push ideas away. I am walking, living breathing mannequin. I live to be accepted, I live to be perfect. The men come and stare at me, their mouths draped open. Women glare at my fake beauty, as they are too shallow to see through it.
Alone. When I am alone... I glow. My heart shines through, my eyes glimmer. I am a shooting star, so far over your heads. Like a little piece of the universe, we're all up there. We gotta find our potential. I've seen glances of mine, like strangers in a downtown road. But, man. When I see her, it's like walking to the other side of the mirror. So maybe I'll just stick my hand through there sometime and hold her hand. She might just want to come out to play.
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Title:
Plastic people.
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Artist:
A p r i l Downfall
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Description:
Something I wrote not too long ago. I thought it would be interesting to place on here.
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Date:
11/13/2009
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Tags:
plastic
people
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