Catharsis
As my mascara ran,
a fake smile was plastered.
I cannot keep trying
to wipe out every word.
The skills to mask? Plying.
As my mascara ran,
its streaks lit up my face.
Shattered cage now collapsed
set me free to find me.
Not once have I relapsed.
As my mascara ran
it was pure catharsis
that mixed with renewal.
Done with perfect poison,
going my way’s the fuel.
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