She opens her eyes to greet the day,
her heart aches and throat fills with bile.
She fixes her face, not one hair astray.
Then plasters on her famous fake smile.
 
Frown lines hidden with such perfection,
but her mind is overwhelmingly blurry.
To just anyone she must radiate direction,
yet her eyes fill with such fear and worry.
 
Beautiful as ever on the surface,
not unlike a small Paper Flower.
So fragile inside, she’s without purpose.
Losing petals like sanity by the hour.
 
No one will notice just one new cut,
and soon it will fade with all the rest.
It will be fine, probably just a rut.
Not that anybody would have even guessed.
 
Every last petal has expectedly now fell.
This poor Flower left nothing but torn.
Throughout the years she’s learned not to dwell,
besides she still has her sharp paper thorns.
 
Still, there’s this boy who sees through her pain,
and promises to try his hardest to fix her.
Fully convinced that the girl is still sane,
and that his love can surely be her cure.
 
He tries to put her heart’s puzzle together,
fitting each piece with patience and care.
Promising to stay, even if it takes forever.
He feels it’s worth it with a love so rare.
 
So afraid to let anyone get anywhere near,
pushing him away for that familiar sting.
She begins to cry as she looks into the mirror.
Self-destruction is such a pretty little thing.