As I stand, 

I am not flawless.

I have my cracks.

I fray at the ends.

I try smoothing roughness from the edges,

"Make it perfect," they say.

I try to paint over the chips and the scars,

But she said to herself,

"when will you realize they make you who you are?"

Silence shatters.

Somehow I'm fine,

Somehow I stand.

I rip aside the gauze,

I strip away the mask.

I let my face, my own face, shine.

The sun illuminates it.

My face, not the porcelain that

pretended to be mine.

The masks and the coverings shatter,

waves pulling the sand back to the sea.

Bare and unblemished.

So

I think I'll stay 

until I wash wash away

with nothing left.

No masks,

No plaster,

No paint.

No perfect, airbrushed hummel doll. 

No shortcomings, failures and inadequecies,

Just me and myself

as I stand

vulnerable and exposed.

Shattered shards surrounding my toes.