Poetry

Beautiful Pain

Scarred, bruised, broken
She goes about scarred, bruised and broken

She carries her hurts within 

She puts on a smile and walks head high

Deserving of an Oscar, quite the feat for an amateur

She’s learnt the art of hiding her grief

She’s learnt to laugh in spite of

She’s learnt to conceal the puffiness of her eyes, 

Alas! The beauty of Maybelline and Revlon

She’s porcelain to the world, shards to herself

The dream others see, a nightmare to her fractured soul

A beautiful kind of pain

An alluring kind of torture

None quite see the depth of her despondency 

That is none but her, 

In the solitude of darkness, she seeks solace in her tears 

A place of gloom, her own private hell

Herself, judge and jury

Her sentence, the infernal, a fate twisted with the damned

She speaks, a voice on mute

Lips moving, no sound heard 

The epitome of a pantomime

The conspiracy lurking within 

Fed and kept alive by the speculations of her mind

Fattened by beguiling lies of shame and condemnation 

An accumulation of no worth and indignity, of depression and pessimism

Still she walks right by, like a queen on parade 

Carefully holding between the layers of her clothing the agony inside

Looking to Mac to conceal her weakness

Relying on the charm of deception

She glides on as untouched 

The show must continue
Image: Google images

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5 thoughts on “Beautiful Pain

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