Life 101 Poem by eve Taylor

In the lateness of it,

it occurs to me,

like billions of others,

it's all a facade,

life and all that,

the sleeplessness,

the trying to wear,

this happiness mask,

it's thin and chipping,

flaking away like mud,

drying on a mid August day,

the itchiness of it,

is sometimes unbearable,

I scratch and I scratch,

until my skin is raw,

and after the mask is gone,

I look into the mirror,

not liking what I see,

so I reapply the mask,

after the dawning day,

straighten my hair,

start all over again,

simply because,

I don't know,

any other way.