The face of her distress is hidden in splendor;
she’s walking among us speaking with candor.
Hidden behind the façade she worked to create,
she hopes we don’t catch on and begin to speculate.
She’s always so bright, her presence so grand;
it’s because of this we may not understand.
Inside she weeps; she’s filled with sorrow.
Her days are numbered; will there be a tomorrow?
In the mirror she sees what she’s never become;
yet her life is envied by more than some.
Perception can twist one’s own reflection.
Reflection is twisted by one’s own perception.
Pretending to be what people want to see; only expecting what we’ll never be.