Painted. Me. Bottled up inside. You can’t see past my translucent skin. I have painted it in envy. I have painted it in frustration. I painted it because you told me to. I look better that way you say. I look like an angel. Like your dreams. Your hopes. Your hopes and dreams. I’m bottled up inside. I can’t show my face. I can’t show me. You want to see what you want to see. Dress me up in clothes. I’m a plastic doll. Plastic boobs, plastic limbs, I can only go in the direction you want me to. You think you know me but all you know is what you want me to be. You made this image. This appearance of me. I look the way you think I should. My skin is painted. These clothes hide what I really am. I have a mask on. You can’t see me. I have translucent skin. You can see me if you wanted me to, But instead you made me paint myself. It made it easier for your eyes. Easier for your mind. Now you feel better. You have an image of me. You can imagine me now. You don’t have to see me. You don’t want to see me. I am painted. Paint is over my translucent skin.