White Ink

Got this idea for a poem off of my newsfeed.

White ink is something you hide from the public of prying eyes.
Something someone else can only sense with their heart.
A color that is lost on a blank page.
The way somebody talks behind a smiling mask.
White ink is the one person who invisible in a sea of colorful faces.
The one person nobody notices is gone.
The white ink hides the color in a flower of potential.
It disguises the mistakes that have been made with a messy cover.
But when the ink is scratched off, there is color.
Damaged, patchy, and scratched color, but still color.