Can't you tell she's broken?
That's smile she gave was just a token
A gesture to give you faith
That she's okay as she says
She's brave to your face
But inside she's filled with hate
Hate for her body
And the way she talks
The way she laughs
All the way down to how she walks
She hate the way she breathes
And wonders how it would feel
If that part ceased
She feels fake
And that adds to her hate
Because it take special kind of pain
To betray your brain
Especially when it screams that you're fine
While silently whispering
"That's not true"
-Midnight poet
YOU ARE READING
HER
PoetryShe is art in a beautiful museum we recognise to be this world. Although she was beautiful, sophisticated and captivating, not every one cared to appreciate that. 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂
