Gently the tan powder is forced around,
layer upon layer.
It hides the way I truly feel,
though it’ll all come back later.
A light gold and a dense brown,
dance around on soft skin.
It hides the way I truly look,
the way I’ve always been.
A marker, one of midnight black,
take part in the cautious blending.
It hides the way I truly feel,
does it’s best to aid in the mending.
Round bristles, the same dreary black
elongate the thin, dark, lashes.
It hides the way I truly look,
my moment of doubt passes.
At the end of the day, I face the facts,
as I wash the makeup away.
It can no longer hide the way I feel,
at least until the next day.