it was a night,

a mediocre one.

where i felt like nobody.

i just felt like a swinging shadow,

flying and fluttering in the air.

it was a night,

a mediocre one.

where i felt low and shallow.

where i needed to solidify my existence.

i needed to deck myself up.

it was a night,

a mediocre one.

where i remembered, how he praised my eyes.

he said they were mystic,

they were magical.

it was a night,

a mediocre one.

when i thought to lace my eyes,

with some dark kohl

and a mascara.

it was a night,

a mediocre one.

when i painted and brushed my eyes,

just like a passionate painter,

paints out his heart and soul.

it was a night,

a mediocre one.

when i stood in front of the mirror.

when my alter go strutted

as she knew, she looked beautiful, she knew, he loved her with her vibrant eyes.

it was a night,

a mediocre one,

when i felt like a douche bag,

as he kept on punching,

till i wept.

it was a night,

a mediocre one,

when all my kohl, when my mascara was washed away,

with the tears

that you decked on me.

it was a night,

a mediocre one,

when i realised the mediocrity of my existence,

and i tampered the smudged kohl and mascara

with a sharp knife.

it was a night,

just a night,

but a mediocre one.

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