Glitter everywhere, she wanted this life, she wanted this hair.
Things crumble when she holds on, it's all make and pretend.
But at least she looks cool enough with those 'High Boots & Lace Tops,'
Donning heavy mascara on eyes that sleep through the day.
She kills her youth to create the smoke that cover your screens.
She suffocates herself with images, to feel normal and free.
She tells herself, she doesn't need validation for a clichè that drowns reality.
Crawling through the endless walls of this Noir, when will she ever escape this highlight malady?
Struggling yet beating, her heart hurts when going out.
She needs to tell them how she's fun; Shining those pearly whites at strangers mouths.
Everything fades away when she is left alone by the blackened pool,
Chasing an aesthetic dream she looks at the 'Crystal Illusion' and the 'Make-Believe Truth.'
She never was invited to this thing, so she learns to love her own company.
Now she makes a heart on her own hand, and presses it on days the crowd gets too heavy.
She keeps her bio private which is not limited by a character count that confines her within.
As she swims upon the surface, making ripples through her mind, she decides,
"I don't want to trade myself for a tailored fit to everybody's invite."
YOU ARE READING
Quick Reads
PoesíaA five-course written meal of poems, short stories, conflicting thoughts, unseen letters and AU imagines. Filled with fluttering heart moments, forgotten memories of nostalgia, an abyss of sadness, immersive happiness and treasured words. ~~ Sugges...
