My False Impressions

My mind uses my body as a crutch,
My smile is used to hide too much.
The brown eyes that I often wish were blue,
Shed so many tears, but never give away a single clue.
My laugh, that sounds like an echo of soul,
Not even that gives away that I'm not whole.
The pale skin that keeps me from fading,
Rarely scars so no one sees my paintings.
My voice, that sounds like happiness,
Is forced and hides the darkness.
Now it's time for my mind to come together,
To make all my pain as light as a feather.
Only a few will hear my confessions,
Then they too see my false impressions.

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This Poems Story

The story of battling with your internal struggles and allowing who sees them.