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