Lyric Woulf >D6 CB< DONE

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

Hair, like golden wire falls to my shoulders. Streaks, from long hours sat in District Six sun, snake their way down the metal-colored strands, intertwining it with the snow that floats gently onto my scalp. Eyes resembling that of a storm rest on a rounded face. Thin, arched eyebrows appear on it's high bone. A large nose and large lips adorn my face, taking up much of the remaining space. Skin, resembling ripened peaches, stretches across a medium frame. 


Blessed with talent since birth, deception comes easily to me. Not that of slight of hand, or pulling a rabbit out of ones hat, but my own kind of magic. The ability to draw small crystals from my eyes at whim, do recreate the feeling of despair, sorrow, or joy, without having much of any reason to feel as such. (Lying). Acting. On stage and off, I am nothing but a liquid, conforming to the container which i have been poured. My parents, so strict in their ways, expect me to be the same. (And so I am). Friends, at least who I consider such, expect me to drink, to inhale smoke into my  lungs and take boys into my bed. (And so I do). 

I am nothing but what others want me to be. 

And therefore, I am empty.