She's a walking doll, face caked in makeup but it's oh so apparent that
There's a angel underneath. "why don't you smile, pretty girl?" they all
Ask and she'll flash a toothy lie to keep the questions at bay, even though
No one will ever ask the right one.

She's such a good girl even though all she wants to do is
Scream 'fuck' at the sky. So loudly that all the neighbors will wonder "What
Has gotten into that child?"

It hurts her so bad. For every petty middle school insult, for the boy
Who ripped her innocence so cruelly from her, she cries. For the knowledge
That God is her only family, the only one who gives a shit, she mourns.
For the fact that she doubts it sometimes, that not even her god is on her side, she shoves bloody knuckles down her throat

She is just skin and bones and blood and organs. Her arms: sliced open to her armpit.
As if pain will remind her that she's still alive.
Striving for perfection in her lonely desolation-
Her dream will never die until she is flawless and airy and nothing at all.