The tan powder is forced around,

layer upon layer.

It hides the way I truly feel,

though it'll all come back later.

A light gold and a dense brown,

dance around on soft skin.

It hides the way I truly look,

the way I've always been.

A marker, one of midnight black,

take part in the cautious blending.

It hides the way I truly feel,

does it's best to aid in the mending.

Round bristles, the same dreary black

elongate the thin, dark lashes.

It hides the way I truly look,

My moment of doubt passes.

At the end of the day, I face the facts,

as I wash the makeup away.

It can no longer hide the way I feel, at least until the next day.