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.