imperfect in her perfection

rubies fall from wounds of perfection

like blossoming pain, rubies ripen

and with dead weight,

detach from the tree

bloody prisms drip down the perfect knee

purple scars,

like rivers of royalty,

trace every curve

purple scars,

like a map,

trace every hurt

the perfect diamond tears fall from

the perfect diamond eyes

eyes to which no perfection lies behind

sharp tears reflect the light,

but cut as they slither down

elegant hands are bruised

slim wrists, with ropes, are bound

a luminescent pearl figure alone

in the darkness of her own soul

where there should be flowing warmth,

frigid gems are flowing cold

they all turn to stare as the perfect

girl, bathed in spotlight, walks by

they do not know that

she is drowning in her sharp, cold prayers:

let me die!

let me die!

her hair, like spun sliver,

one thread for every silent scream

one diamond for every deadened dream

as she lies down on her rose petal bed,

she hardly notices the thorns

each earthly gun draws threads of blood

painting a picture of confusion

a crimson delusion

she awakes to walk her daily

nightmare….

tries to wash away the pain

but she knows...

that each and every day

will bring back bright and cutting shame