The Impostor

A short poem, experimenting with form.

These aren't tears glittering on my eyelashes
                              No!
            They're sequins or fairy lights sparkling.
                      My shoulders, shaking?
            But that was simply laughter - I was never sobbing.
      You must have seen that girl who pretends
                                  to be me.
              She's always hanging around with a downcast mouth
          and glistening eyes.
                But of course you know she's just an impostor.
                You know that this inanely grinning mask
                        Is the Real Deal.