She wears scars on her wrists.
A fake smile on her face.
She dresses to impress.
She's a walking definition of a beauty Queen.
Though Deep down
This queen is losing faith.
Looking for something to hold onto.
Trying so hard not to let her gaurd down.
Trying so hard to be strong.
Trying so hard to keep up this act.
But with everyday that passes by, she loses another little peice of herself.
She can tell herself she's still the same girl
but the mirrors dont lie; they see right through her.
Applying make-up to hide her lies.
Though it's never really enough.
Through the eyes of a camera
You can see the changes that hold control of her.
She's smaller and less confident.
Her body movements say it all,
She lost her sense of control.
She lost all her strength.
She can barely survive at all.
Its as if she became something so
Beautiful yet so fragile.
A pretty picture but saddness is captured.
A lovely structure, but sickness is looming around her.
She is nothing less than a Poreclain Doll.
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