the world becomes blurry,
looking through overflowing eyes,
cheeks stained charcoal with dripping mascara.
She had felt pretty, for once,
like a little doll,
her face heavily made up
(but it looked okay,
looked good,
but she just couldn't get the shot right;
her camera wasn't good enough
and she couldn't ask for help)
She was okay
until he came in
He's the only one that can always
make her cry.
She cries out in pain as her nails scrape her skin
but it's okay:
it's sharp and physical,
a change from her usual state of mind.
She hears them laughing outside,
she wants to scream,
needs to,
but they'll hear.
Author notes
The right side of my right calf is still a light pink but it's a lot better than it was. I think I'm okay now. A dose of Indica and books I don't understand help.
I was kind of flipping earlier.
Comments
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who is this about shell? who made you cry
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