The teardrops run down
And fall off her nose.
She cries in dark corners,
Where nobody goes,
You can follow the tracks,
From her eyes to her chin,
Years upon years,
Of letting them win,
And her eyes tell a story,
Of anger and pain,
You think she’s happy,
But look again.
The scars of her past, hidden under her clothes, are a roadmap to places nobody knows; her smile is now painted.
She’s a master of disguise, and you can see it all; look into her eyes.




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