Never judge a book by its cover.
That’s how the saying goes, right?
But because of this no one loved her.
She wore heels as tall as skyscrapers,
lipstick red as blood,
no one knew that every night,
her tears would cause a flood.
Those marks on her neck,
that looked like hickeys?
They were burns from her father,
because she chose to be picky.
Her face was a painted mask,
all happy but ironically still sad.
The make-up covered the remnants
of her mother’s mad(ness).
You really know how she feels?
You look at her appearance and just think,
“Oh, nothing new.”
Just because of false representations,
doesn’t mean she’s got nothing to hide,
when really, she’s hiding the world,
and ignoring your snide.
She wanted to impress,
but she had a ton to confess.
She didn’t want to burden anyone
with her own mess.
If you believe in karma,
I don’t mean to cause an alarm-but, uh…
this is not going to be a story of dharma.
Sadly, the girl doesn’t make it,
even though she tried to fake it.
Her act was just too much,
her body was cold to the touch,
and in the end she just left in a rush.
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