covered and clothed
all at the same time
insecurities cause cracks in the caked-on mask
that is what she sees
that is what she thinks
what she lives
no amount of green can make her red go away
photoshop is no match
to the puffy eyes
and run mascara
of a broken heart.
no, heart doesn't quite cut it.
her soul broke when they broke-up.
her very being was shattered
everyone around her says that she will forget, heal and move on soon enough
tell that to the scars she hides
the tears she cries when no one is looking
the echoes that bound from the tiled walls of the bathroom seem like taunts reminding her of
horrors that she can't escape
a twisted symphony that, whenever she hears it, pushes her down the rabbit hole further and further
are all normal
yet so excruciating that no one should ever be subjected to them.
but why are we all put through it at one point or another?