she juggles her troubles into the air
laughing and laughing, as if she can't care
stitches the bleeding cuts within her lungs
pretend she's not drowning, claims to have fun.
brushes shy features with buckets of paint
waits for the wild shades to colour her quaint
tries to conceal all the monsters lurking within
walks up to the crowd with an enchanting grin.
then dances in circles until it tires her out
scares away all the crafty whispers of doubt
waits for the audience to clap and to cheer
hopes it'll be enough to chase off her fears.
yet, all that she earns is a penny an hour
takes up an eternity to construct her tower
but in the name of beating her insecurities dumb
she wills herself to amuse people, even when numb.
now, as she sings softly atop of the world
then, a mere child – now, more than a girl
she knows that her monsters still thrive healthy and well
someone big – she may be, but it still feels like hell.