Four short years,
already developed in the art of deceit

Ready to smile and laugh and clap
Blonde hair, white dress
One misfit, big brown eyes
stripped of their innocence
Their joy, their glee, their spark
They flash with false charm
Sparkling, the luxury of childhood only superficial
Truth cannot be captured on film
Never will I allow a stranger to see
To patronize me with sympathy
To focus in on my soul, infringed
To catch a glimpse of the duct tape patches

My pearly white smile, perpetually forced
Restricting the lens to witness only lies
Twelve years later, New Year's Eve
The same generic wish
No more artificial grins, no more negativity

Soon, certainty speedily advances
Forever I will be the terror-stricken girl
In a white dress
Smiling, the past only on reels behind my eyelids