The Other Half

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It  has become increasingly simple

To build a mask for ourselves,

To pick and choose the best parts of our lives

And put them on display

As if our souls were on sale.

We sell our bodies to the screens

As a way to tell the world

That we are not broken.

We are not taught to save our hearts

For those who will pick up the shattered pieces

And still proclaim us as works of art.

But the truth is, I am not a filter

Or a simple touch-up on Photoshop.

I am the girl who smiles for the photos

And laughs with her friends,

But I am also the girl

Who sometimes hides from the world

And cries in her bed.

There are things that a picture cannot show.

Like the dreams in my head,

The songs in my heart,

And the thoughts that return to me at night.

The number of people dwindle;

The people who own the right

To say that they know me.

The true, authentic me.

Because to know someone truly

Is to witness for yourself

A spark of passion in their eyes

And hear the smile in their voice

When they speak of their hopes and dreams.

The camera only captures half of our story.

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