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I wish you could see the real me,
The girl who hides under the hairspray and makeup.
Each time I do something that isn’t true to me,
A part of myself dies,
The little girl who’s the real me
Suffocating under the layers of my growing false identity. . .
I delve inside myself and search for her, but it takes a while.
She’s buried under all the words I said but didn’t mean,
All the activities I tried to make myself enjoy but didn’t.
It’s too much.
The little girl’s slowly dying.
This girl quivers behind the mask of the girl you see right now,
Too afraid to unveil herself.
What will her peers think? Will she be accepted?
She doesn’t want to take that risk,
So she remains hidden and ignored, like a delicate jewel,
Shuffled amidst all the other dusty gems, beads, baubles, and bangles, waiting for her moment to sparkle in the sunlight.
She cries softly as she watches me lose sight of who I really am.
Gradually blending into the mindlessly conformative abyss,
Where it seems if one is to emerge with their true colors shining brightly, they’d be ridiculed.
Scarred for life.
I feel like an armadillo, curled up in a ball,
I hide within myself, blocking out everyone.
The world’s hostile, cruel, and intimidating
And I just want to get away from it all.
I don’t want to get hurt.
The girl inside begs me to let her show,
Begs me to give her a chance to prove to me
That maybe the world isn’t as malicious as I think,
But I say no, I’m too frightened.
So I wake up tomorrow morning,
And do my makeup as usual,
The same as everyone else.
No cat-tail eyeliner I saw in Vogue today.
I pick out my clothes with the same style.
The same style as everyone else.
No vintage lace skirt today.
The little girl hangs her head.
As I leave my house, there’s no turning back.
Maybe, no hopefully
Tomorrow I’ll discover the real me,
The girl that longs to show herself to the world