You would have never known that her wrinkles were scars she hid behind the concept of fading beauty.
Had you looked past the white lie she portrayed through her smile, you would have seen the porcelain lines at the edge of her face. Did it cross your mind that perhaps each little twitch, every small gesture was part of a play. One where the actors are applauded not for being outstanding but for being normal. But her pain hid itself well, and would only be shown in those golden moments where control dropped its guard. Her emotions clawed their way through the cracks of her mask only to become a flash of honesty that you so beautifully dubbed “unbecoming”.
She fights herself to stay the way she believes she is. Drops the façade only to pick up another one, and restart it all in the hopes that this time the world will be a little kinder. But her heart skips a beat every time she sees the wickedness that sleeps under the covers of “magnificence.” Power tries to belittle her every chance it gets, yet she moves with its stream slowly changing its flow. An unstoppable force that stutters, falls, breaks, heals and starts again.
Her mask is more for you than for her. Challenging your perception of reality by giving you a smile you can accept. Force feeding you the truth by hiding it in the middle of undeniable progress. Slowly but surely making her way into the centre. Caressing the pain inflicted by a society that deemed her unworthy. Unsuited, incapable, and were she to challenge it they would call her crazy. But here she comes, wearing that mask that we have come to love. Donning those eyes that can make the moon look down. Here she comes, in all her glory, claiming whats rightfully hers. Everything.