Masquerade

She is happy. Her smile is warm, breathtaking to those who glance upon her unawares. Her eyes shine with a brightness that has never before been seen, blinding the unsuspecting with a shimmer that could make the stars jealous. Her laughter flows like music, a melody untamed that entrances all those around her. She is such a lovely creature when she is in good spirits.

She is in love. She smiles coyly but confidently, assuring both herself and her lover everything is alright. Her eyes reflect something that does not compliment the rest of her features, something new and welcome, no matter what the world has to say. Her heart beats fast, faster than ever, pumping blood to her face, staining her pale cheeks with a rare blush. She is in all of her majesty when she is in love.

She hates. Her eyes are blank, empty and as see-through as glass, baring her soul now tainted black. Her body is tense, fists clenched tight, almost enough to draw blood but now quite. Her lips pursed tightly, barely a thin visibly line on her face, a barrier of sorts to keep the storm inside from unleashing all of its fury. She sighs, a desperate sign she is barely a push away from the edge, a warning because the edge is not something you want to push her over. She is a wicked, spiteful demon when she is caught up in the midsts of her own hatred.

She is angry. She screams at the top of her lungs, voice cracked and broken from previous shouting matches between her and people that do not matter, sometimes people that matter too much. Her face is flushed red from shouting, working herself to her emotional limits at someone else's expense. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, tears she is more than reluctant to shed in front of you. She is a statuette of rage, a monument of emotions at their worst when she is angry.

She is sad. She hides in a dark place and lets the tears fall with her head bowed and her chest heaving. Her sobs are silent because no one deserves to hear them, and she knows no one cares. Her body shakes, almost able to match the way her broken heart is trembling. She is a helpless shell, void of everything that once made her so humane when she is sad.

She is a mess of emotions carelessly handled because of you. And she shows you the way you expect her to handle herself in the heart of the storm. She shows you exactly what you want to see.

She is a bitch. She is able to bring you down with one word, completely destroying everything that made you what you were. She laughs in your face, her laughter a cruel chime in the dead silence. She smiles half-heartedly as she watches you duck your head to avoid her hollow gaze that scorches your very soul and shatters your heart. She walks away, leaving you behind to wallow in the emptiness she's caused and she enjoys every second of it. She is a cruel and heartless person.

She is a child. She is immature and falls into action before thinking, a reckless mistake she never regrets. She enjoys the things no one her age should enjoy, cartoons and silly songs entertain her to no end. She finds the smallest things amusing, laughing for what seems like hours without a care. The smallest of things can also annoy her, sending her into a tantrum until she gets her way. She knows how to enjoy life. She is an innocent youth in a world gone insane.

She is a slut. She flirts with all of the men around her. She drapes over them, her hands wandering over their chests as her chin rests on shoulders. She smiles alluringly, reeling the men in like fish caught on a line. She speaks in a delicate tone of voice, one that sends shivers up and down men's spines, instantly rendering them helpless. She enjoys turning men into loyal lap-dogs willing to do anything for her should she give the word. She is a woman, a two-bit whore, there for the taking.

She is a dyke. She touches another woman and kisses her cheek right in front of you. She holds her tightly to her body, pressing her breasts up against the other woman's back. Her hands caress the other woman's face, her fingertips tracing idle patterns against a slender jawline. She makes promises to the other woman, saying things she could never say to a man because her words would mean nothing. She bares herself to the other woman, regardless of the world's prosecutions. She takes pride in her sexuality, flaunting the fact she is meant for another female.

She is a Goth. She paints her lips black and smiles like the shadows clinging to the room all around her. She dresses in black, cloaking herself in darkness to match the way she feels inside. She paints her nails black, tainting her touch. She wears jewelery fit for Satan himself, charms that could call forth the very demons of Hell if used in the right way. She stares with eyes that resemble a corpse's, empty of the will to live; her eyes reflect her sins. She is of the darkness and there she will stay because those who live in the light cannot understand her.

She is a witch. She casts her spells, working magic unseen by those around her. She manipulates the truth with her words and creates the grandest of illusions, just for you. She laughs, the sound wicked but it seduces you, causing you to stay by her though you know you should run before it is too late. She is a master magician when it comes to manipulation; she has the Earth and Heavens wrapped around her finger and no one is none the wiser.

She is what you want to see. Your labels transform her and she becomes everything you want her to be, she becomes everything you never wanted her to be. She is everything and nothing in a world too caught up in itself to notice.

-End