Plastic

It's always the ones with the brightest smiles, that have the darkest pain.
The facade of beauty that masks the truth.
The hurt.
The guilt. 
In the end, we're all just fragments of what we see in the mirror.
Ghosts of the people we pretend to be.
Plastic.
But oh, my dear... Never forget that under heat, that plastic will melt.
And we're burning.

How beautiful is it to think of what we can mold ourselves into once we have cooled? 

TRT

◄ Stay

Another man ►

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