Masked.

Smudged kohl, smeared lipstick,
She leaned towards the mirror,
With her mascara rolling down
And eyeliner colouring her
Forehead in black lines,
Red blots on her cheeks,
As if she was blushing,
But that was her the marks
That endless hours of rubbing,
And scratching, clawing,
Itching, had left
In the wake up of her trying
To look pretty,
Prettier than the doll sleeping
On the shelf,
Till she finally wiped away all
Her stains, and audibly sighed
At her failed attempt to
Apply makeup.