Her eyes lock dead
her smile fixed,
a perfect picture
from a crushed dream
She, she who wanted to be
a portrait to show,
She who wanted to be
An art, she-
A masterpiece for others
A disgrace to herself
A young lady unable to follow
Follow the one thing she desires most
which is to be an artist,
To hold a paint brush not fearing
that tomorrow would be another day
of starvation
She!
said to bring the downfall of heavens
With the desire to be better
She, who possesses a secret garden
of imagery inside her head,
while torns of her roses prick her mind
reminding her of the living hell that she,
a young woman, who is unable to follow her dreams
is never good enough
For she believes mediocrity is what her world would be
She, who burns with the passion hotter than hell
She,
Whose flowers are as red as ruby
is shadowed by her soul,
as if she was living in the deepest trench,
where light could no longer touch
a single life
Yet she, knowing all of these
She… She smiles
wearing a facade that fools even herself
“I’m okay..”
yet inside, She wasn’t
art by: Blessie Joy DelcoWords by yours truly.
