My smile

Is neither genuine or a sign of happiness,
it's a mechanism, a reflex
Something to help further cover my insanity.
I peek through the curtain of certain depression with an expression of nothing
swallowing me whole,
My smile makes me realize
I am the opposite of happy,
Opposite of content.
Makes me realize im a liar.
I smile a little less,
Decrease the amount of forged generosity.
Imust be doing a great job
because there's a certain judgement of a happy go lucky Briana,
and there was, a long time ago
But not anymore