The Persona
The Many-Faced Mirror, Wearer of a Thousand Masks
Wear me well, but don’t forget who’s beneath.
Watch me shift in the stage-lit haze of your daily show. I’ve got a closet full of personas: the diplomat, the flirt, the mourner. Slip one on, and I’ll laugh at just the right pitch. We’re all performers here, darling. But let’s skip the curtain call—I’d rather keep the mask half-lifted, just enough for you to catch your own eyes watching back.
What I'm Into: porcelain cracks, polishing silver grief, chameleon skin, empty dressing rooms, the weightlessness of a forgotten moment
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