She wakes every morning,
puts on her face;
and her armor.
Refuses her breakfast
for it’s too early to eat,
and she isn’t hungry
It’s cold outside; too cold for comfort.
But she’s never comfortable,
something is always not quite right.
One piece in her puzzle never fits.
Hunched over her bright world
she gazes blankly.
Watches it as god watches us
scrolling and scrolling
through life after life.
She’s a beauty queen,
mistreated and hurt.
With no one to blame
she turns inward
to herself.
She fears there is nothing in this world
that will ever make her world
whole, again.
She walks through this hall,
with a hidden frown.
There is too much bad and not enough good yet the good
still hides the bad.
Some people hold an undeniable presence,
their spirits are solid rock.
Others, like her, I think
my hand could pass right through
as if tracing air.
The day ends,
she can’t call her friends,
what if they don’t want her around.
So she walks home,
alone. Per usual.
After removing her face,
and throwing it out,
She reveals herself, scars,
bruises, burns, and breaks.
It’s not long before she falls asleep.
For tomorrow she will create a brand new one,
to mask the same old pain.