I'm cheerful on the outside yes, but under this huge hyperfilled, cheerful girl is a fragile antique.
On the outside some see me as normal or energetic maybe the one maçã, apple with a hole in the barrel.
I'll plaster a smile every now and then to show the me-the fake me- to disguise the actual one pulling the strings.
As I stand before the mirror starring at myself I see that figure looming behind me his hand on my shoulder.
And at that moment my mask breaks and I'm stunned at my actual self.
I'm filled with depression, sadness, anger and haterid.
Never did I want to ever see the true me.
The mirror breaks and the man seguinte to me whispers "Your mine." I look down in defeat.
Dropping to the ground-on my knees-I begin to cry.
He got the better of me and now I am no more.
"I'm a monster." I say to myself through a sob.