Gazing through the wall of glass,
As the viewers stare and pass;
The perfect model of serenity,
Hiding the inner heart’s tragedy.
The perfect little angel,
Isn’t she sublime?
The passersby ignore the jail
That locks her in her mind.
The invisible chains that bind
The restrictions on her life,
The person that she is is trapped inside;
Inner turmoil, ragging strife.
Unbetrayed by the grinning face,
The pasted smiles and double lies;
The jokes that hide that hidden place,
That inner closet where the soul cries.
Inside her mind she’s screaming,
Her silent heart is bleeding;
At midnight she’s weeping,
A battle of wills competing.
Although the glossy lips are sealed,
The iron bars can’t hold her soul within;
Soon her concealed secrets will be revealed,
Now others can fault her secret sins.
Wherever she turns there’s a wall,
A detour to a dead end stage;
She’s a slave to others’ beck and call,
A jilted bird in a gilded cage.
Banging on the unyielding walls,
Leaning against the glass;
Waiting for the grim reaper’s call,
Blood dripping off the lance.
She left behind a final plea,
“My heart none can ever disgrace;
The world will always hate me,
Who cares about saving face?”