Plastic

I take a deep breath
Fix a fake smile onto my face
I know that by the end of the day my cheeks will kill
But theres no way I'm letting it slip off my face
Then people will see how weak I really am

"Hey Bethan, how are you?" they all ask
"I'm okay" I quickly lie "What about you guys?"
I dont listen to the answer
I dont care about the answer
Does that make me a bad person?

Somehow I make it through the day
I go home to my only friends
I slowly pull my blades out of the box
The first real smile of the day on my face
A minute later and all the pains gone

I'm ready for another day of being fake
Of being cold, hard plastic