I pinned my hair behind my ears,
And donned my evening gown.
Mother tied my mask behind my head,
To mask my evening frown.
Behind the fabric I could be,
Any character I chose.
Living thus far as a thorn,
I longed to be a rose.
A rose I was, bloomed and full,
And my beauty, it was charming.
Beneath the mask, wilting I was,
A soul’s decay the most alarming.
My petals weren’t faltering,
The world was awestruck.
Behind, I was in hysteria,
As my fated mask was stuck.
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