on the outside she is smiling
but
on the inside she is crying,
dieing, the words mean nothing
this time it will work
she can't go on with this mask,
covering her skin
it starts at one then goes to two, three,
soon it is eaght, nine, ten, GONE
that is where she will be,
six feet under and still crying,
crying for somthing lost,
somthing for wich will never be found
broken, she lies there,
gripping the mask till night when she washes her self clean with the sharp blade
that addicting cut,
the smell of sweet death filling her,
she wants to grasp the darkness for good,
one day that god damn mask will slip and fall and the girl behind it will die
that will be the end of her book,
the end, the sweet sweet end...
plush panda of death Community Member 
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