Papier mâché honesty, delicately finished in porcelain and poise, she wears herself like a mask and nobody notices. Such life draped upon her shoulders, where for once it glimmers, and nobody asks how she got it, though she aches to be revealed. From behind herself she smiles and sadness pours out, pooling at her feet and staining the ground. Revelling in revolt, she shreds the world with her eyes to let the ribbons float. When the truth finally leaves her, it’s light and swift and devastating, yet flits about unnoticed. Everybody nods and says it simply can’t be true.

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