Fake Skin | Teen Ink

Fake Skin

January 8, 2014
By Amy Zhang BRONZE, Samammish, Washington
Amy Zhang BRONZE, Samammish, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Morning calls
The birds bring me their laughter
I sometimes wonder how their voices
So genuine and true, with no fears or protection,
Can be so free.


Day beckons
I put on my fake skin

Artificial, make-believe, bogus,
My parched lips covered by candy apple smiles

Unreal, forged, counterfeit,
My aching soles are sheltered by silver strapless prison
Heels higher than the sky
But don’t bring me to heaven

Pretend, phony, fabricated,
I let my cashmere sleeve fall to my fingers
Hiding my scars of pain

I pull myself together and face the mirror
Force the corners of my powdered mask
To curve towards the stars.

I’m ready, prepared
Stocked up with my weapons to face the darkness of day.


Hallway
There are countless faces yet none at all
Fake people, fake smiles
All trained to perfection.

Here
In the center of the elite circle, are my “friends”
Curly locks of blonde hair marks the head of my beholder
Diamond earrings, rosy-pink skin
She owns my existence

She’s always telling me
“You’ll get nowhere in life without status, beauty, and popularity”
I believe her
And it is the truth.

There
In a corner of the crowded scene, is a girl
Messy brunette bun sitting on her head, she’s a strange one
Sketchbook in hand, carelessly

She once told me
A long while back before
“Don’t get dragged into darkness, popularity is not everything”
“Don’t be pressured into being something you’re not.”
Lies, they all are
Her dishonesty is appalling.

Fake people, fake smiles
Dishonest judging, making perceptions
Fake conversations, fake lives.


Home
The birds greet me with their song.
A sound of bittersweet melancholy

Afternoon stings
I shed my fake skin

Real, sincere, honest,
Taking out the pins and ties in my hair that have stretched and pulled my mind

Actual, authentic, truth,
Chemicals running down my face
Washing down the faded gray of my powdered mask.

Genuine, true, original,
I reveal once again
The candy apple shine is reduced to a dull shade of lavender
My cramped toes shifting to feel the soft tufts of the carpet
Comfortable gray sweatshirt showering me with warmth.

I am once again weak.

I let myself fall apart and face the mirror
Relax the edges of my worn out face, allowing it
To sink towards the depths of the ocean.

Don’t get dragged into darkness, she said.
But I am already in the shadows
Giving up on the light
That could have been my destiny.

Real people, real faces
Something I truly want, but won’t admit
Realize, real lies.


Morning regrets
The birds bring me their sorrow
I occasionally ponder the thought of their voices
Wondering if, like the cry of the birds, I
Can too be free.


The author's comments:
This poem is about the tough lives of depressed high school kids who have to hide behind a fake identity, or "fake skin", to be liked.

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