Its the family in the picture.
Always so neat and together.
A singular moment of painted on red.
For once in there life red is just red
a color on the lips
rather than a stain.
The mother she puts
on this masgarade ,
year after year,
this ball begins
with the masks always blank,
looking perfect in a dance.
So smiles and makeup
is what people see
an idea of some friends,
they never knew would bleed...
YOU ARE READING
Broken Puzzle
PoetryWe're all a little broken and truth is, none of us fit in. But we try and conform, whether you want to believe it or not, we all do. However, day by day we slowly lose ourselves and thats when you feel stuck.
