Anorexic Pixies dance on
the fragile tips of butterfly wings
losing their dust, deteriorating away.
So light and delicate, emitting
beauty, but at night,
they're walking on eggshells.
The mirror lies, and nothing's right.
Their whole life is a masquerade.
Pictures are deceiving as tears
creep down their false eyelashes.
But as long as the mask can hold up,
the pixies will dance again.
 
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