she

Who can see the weary soul
Buried within the active persona?
The joys displayed upon her
Radiates a cover over her tears.

Who can hear the despair in her voice
Buried amongst the laughters?
The sound of beauty echoes
A cover over her rhythm of sobs.

She leads a double life of day and night
Perfectly in tune with her many facades.
The perfect mix of cosmetics worn
Over as foundation to her wrinkles.

The toll of it all seeps away her life
Slowly, one step after another...
She can no longer laugh like before
Neither can she cry anymore.