My soft skin get wounded and stressed,
but I fail to protest every time.
My lips are stitched in such a way that shows a smile
and not allowed to get puckered.
My adorable soft colorful hands get scratched
but I fail to protest every time.
Just because it's your show in which I work
you keep pulling the strings that are attached.
My eyes, those cheerful eyes get drenched.
Not in tears of pain but due to strain,
but I fail to close them in that time too.
It reminds me those dreadful outcomes that I faced.
My soft colorful clothes are getting torn.
My cheerful smile and shine are fading away.
But I have to keep my mouth shut anyway,
as not my pain but my smiles are adorned.
