Make-up (a poem by Jack)

Caked on illusions.. Pour on the makeup to hide your flaws..

Your impurities and insecurities bleed through..

Your superficial persona used to disguise your hurt …. Confuses no one.. It only provokes the wolves..

The wolves love to feed on the flesh of misery and the misinformed…

Do you hate yourself? How about those perceived imperfections…

Cake it on… 

Put your mask on.. Just because one wears a mask… Don’t mean they done nothing wrong automatically…

It just means their true identity is irrelevant to their mission… To their purpose..

And what seems to be yours…

Temptress persuaded to do the bidings of lust…or dole out the hurt from within and let the world feel what you feel daily…

You reek of whore…

 Intriguing…

What tools do you have to slice through the awkward pain..

A huntress you are… Playin coy.. Inviting wolves only to use their blood for your own sacrifices… 

To pagan gods you pay homage… Demiurge pagan riff raff… Who only perpetuate the loop you are stuck in..

A deranged look you’ll never escape.. For you weren’t designed to escape… Just cake on your makeup… And continue to hide who you are..

It’s probably better that way.. So that your true rotten core isn’t so much revealed… And the illusion lives on..

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