The girl walked over to the mirror
where she dressed in the same color
that defined who she was

she then looked at herself
and knew that this façade
wasn’t worth it

but she put on her mask anyway
and hoped that the veneer
would keep any peers
from prying
and looking deeper

she walked passed her unconscious father
who didn’t even try to bother looking closer
because only she and one other person knew
all the pain she was going through

however, Mona Lisa’s oil paints
got more scrutiny
than the nurses’ concern
about the cuts on her arms

and though the dying girl cried out,
no one seemed to sense any pain
from the mask she donned
every morn