Poetry, the Stars; and whatever Space lies between

Concealer

Let you not replace

A tried and pure face

With mask of makeup;

Well-done hair,

For guy. Upon boy.

Who does not care.

Lest you should forget

A life of regret

With men who care not;

Bringing out your tears,

For fun. Twisted boy.

Who fills you with fears.

Least of all, you're vain-

A sign of your pain

With looks as your friends;

To yourself: "It's all

Okay. Just a boy,

Who takes me, a fool"

Look

Down at your hands, and up to the mirror.

See yourself smile, now getting clearer.

Your artistry, grand.

Whilst he's just as bland

Your face- a canvas;

Open, but not blank

And for that, you have him to thank.

Now so skilled, not shy

You'll charm any guy.

What is to conceal? While I cannot say,

"I know now for sure, you look nice today."