The Cover-Up

I'm trying to makeup, but it just doesn't make since
Because I can't cover up the cover-up.

Cappuccino number eight to brighten my imperfections.
Purple maniac to give a sparkle to this hue of depressing blue.
Electric eel with a satin finish so you can't see the rough spots.
Number twenty-four makes a brotha stare at the lip gloss
And his girl give the head toss because she's mad.

I've concealed my rotund darkness with a natural tone.
My Queen collection doesn't have me feeling like royalty today.
And MAC better give me my money back,
Because this cover-up ain't covering up like it's supposed to.
Layers of a faulty foundation,
There are too many ways to apply these products.

Years of practice and I'm still no professional.
The rouge does not accent my cheekbones
Which never move from their sad position.
My mascara is running a marathon and volumizing my distress.
Yet, I must reapply and move forward with the cover-up.

A little more adhesive to bring out my eyes,
And some adhesive to mend this brokenness.
Natural beauty is a thing of the past.

So, if beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Then I can't be certain of what I see.
If eyes are a window to the soul,
Then my life story is an open book for the average browser.

This mineralized skin finish is purely cosmetic.
It will eventually fade while the pain still radiates through my pores.
Perhaps two coats of cherry bomb red to hide my nervous condition
Because this cover-up ain't covering up like it's supposed to.

(Circa May 2013)