Painted porcelain masks,

  What a foolish facade we use it for.

  Smiles with no meaning,

  Eyes gleaming falsely.

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  But so soft it seems,

  So lightly done.

  Arranged to a perfect beauty.

  Showing warmth and compassion, though it's not it's duty.

  But alas it is covered

  By things unneeded.

  The user unwilling to show true greatness because of discomfort.

  So a mask it shall paint on.

  Why does it taunt me so!

  Such a rare site that it is,

  Tortures me as I gaze upon it's glory

  Giving me this feeling of envy.

  For I wish I had their serenity

  Of a face filled genuinely.