Personality Disorder

Can a being only exist to one person?

A persona only allowed to some but not all
One for each facet I allow the world to see;
each holding it's own validity,
it's own will to breathe and thrive.

She is the persona seen only by family.
They are the form only known to those caught in inter-webs.

While she is the mask seen by her friends.

He only sees her in the dark, when the moonlight can't escape the curtains,
and his pupils can't see anything past the tip of his nose.

The matriarch keeps them all locked away;
safely secure within their own solitary prisons.
Lost in the threads that keep them tied to this world.

When one outlives her use she is executed...
her remains scattered among the survivors.

She lives, but she is never intact.

It's a game.
"How many lives can I live before someone realizes I'm not real?"

I'm a fantasy,
a beautiful disgusting dream.
An enigma left only to those who dare to dig for her.

She who is left, chained away by all the masks.

The sorting system of masks are in shambled.
It is a disorganized mess of masks and false smiles.
The matriarch weeps every time she wears the wrong one.

The disorder is all she knows...
all she wants to know.

Nothing else matters but her disorder of personalities.
And sometimes among the chaos,
the real her swims to the surface.

Only for a moment...
Only for a glimpse,
before being dragged back to the bottom.
Back into the abyss.