magic makeup

(part 1, part 2 is "real remover") somedays my fingers fall off my head folds into itself and my face turns into a canvas of unnaturally bright colors they clash with my thoughts and wave to ones passing with each taking an inch till I'm the lovers hight of a mirrored image and trapped beauty others, its soul of pure, rich, perfection filled with an ideal yet impossible ending my brain is sharp and dumbed down to a point of one preferred its misunderstood and loved or accepted down to the least some days admired not hated but just wanted