Wooden Smiles



wooden smiles and painted tears

behind this mask we hide our fears



ĎJust keep smiling.í


That is what I tell myself, over and over, even when I feel like my face will crack in two from the pain of holding this grin, finally revealing to them what I really feel beneath this plaster mask.


Some days I feel like Iím walking a line, a thin unsteady line that I canít fall off of, no matter how hard I try, though I weave dangerously as I walk it.


On one side there is the smile, the smile that I present to the world no matter how much I want to curl up into a ball and break apart, shatter, fall into the abyss that is my heart.


And on the other side is that abyss, the deep yawning abyss that hold everything I truly feel, holds everything that I hide every single day behind a wide, fearless, simple smile.



in solitude we walk this line

between reality and mind



Iím not perfect, though, no matter how hard I try to be. Not like that boy who is perfectóand never smiles.


Sometimes, I slip. Sometimes, a word or a phrase or a memory or an insult will slip between the cracksóbecause there are cracksóand for a moment, just a brief moment, this smile will falter, revealing for that small instant in time the pain and loneliness that hides beneath.


Sometimes I feel the emptiness that will fill my eyes, turning them so dark and fathomlessly deep.


They donít see. Or they do, and brush it off as inconsequential. And I do nothing to dissuade that, for I bounce back mere seconds later, grinning widely even when my soul is screaming and breaking inside.



porcelain hearts and empty eyes

we hide behind this mask of lies



I donít lie. Canít lie, wonít lie. And this smile, it isnít a lie. Not really, not truly. I suppose itís what I might have been, had I not suffered the way I have.


They think itís the real me. They think Iím just a simple boy who knows nothing about the war that we fight, the pain that it causes; just another boy who smiles all the time because he doesnít realize that thereís nothing to smile for.


I know that thereís nothing to smile for. Thatís why I do itóbecause if I donít smile, who will? Iím the only one who can do it without breaking; who can smile andósort ofómean it.



we sing of what we could have been

of happy memories and heartfelt grin



I have to keep smiling. Because if I stopped, then wouldnít I be just like them? Unable to be happy, unable to see the simple, joyous things in life, unable to pretend for even a moment that we arenít what we areóchildren who are fighting a war they should have had nothing to do with in the first place.


If I stop smiling, Iíll become the emptiness that I can feel deep inside of me, waiting for its moment to pounce.


ĎJust keep smiling.í


ófor what else can I do, but smile and pretend Iím something more than the nothing Iíll always be?



broken faÁade and crumbling wall

without this mask, weíre nothing at all



And here we go again; number four in the series. Iím just churning these out, arenít I? Yes, the poem contained in this story is mineóplease donít steal it.


DISCLAIMER: I hold no claim to Gundam Wing or any related franchises. The idea, the plot, and the poem, however, belong to me.




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