The coruscating surface, the superfluous outside,
The mask behind which evil may hide.
Smooth and unmarked,
To them others flocked.
Bright lipstick, fake eyelashes,
And monoliths of brushes.
The pristine surface,
Could hide many a furnace,
The heat of trauma,
Hidden beneath drama.
The fragile shell of appearance,
Placed to keep all at a distance.
The apparent distaste,
Made to stay what they can’t face.
A past of horror,
Or unhealthy glamour,
One can be healed,
The other only reeled.
If the truth it be,
And has not what can’t see,
Then keep what you can in memory.