You stared at your own reflection
As you wondered:
"How do you define perfection?"
Slim waist?
Wide hips?
Toxicity dripping out of those BIG,PLUMP LIPS.
It's funny how people will only like you for your appearance,
Your outer beaty.
But will they love you still
If they had seen your nudity?
Stripped down to your core
Revealing the secrets you've managed to hide before.
If they had seen your soul,
Your flaws and imperfections,
Your little white lies.
Will they love you still?
If they realised how complicated and broken you are.
Will they love you still?
Or just disappear?
You are that one abstract painting in every museum.
Very beautiful to look at.
Admired by many.
They loved you for your vibrant colors,
Your 'perfectly blended' blues and hues.
But it takes someone who understand
To see the masked story
Behind that beautiful tragedy.
