And her body screams for the agony to end.
Over and over she is terrorized by the demons of the beauty world.
They rant and pound into her and hard-wire herself to believe she is just not good enough.
The girl is a murderer.
Everyday she wakes up and slathers her face with cover-up.
Flawless, perfection=beauty.
Then her blood-shot eyes are gobbed with mascara.
A pinch of rose on the cheeks. And don't forget to colour in those lips.
A perfect little pout.
Holding back the truth.
The girl is just wanting this to all to come to an end.
Her heart is all bottled up and tainted with a disease.
Its sick and tired.
Literally sick, running to the bathroom.
With closed doors she lets it all out.
Shoving her finger down her throat.
And sometimes nothing will even come out.
Her body is agonized she will try to feed it with just the media.
And when she steps back on that scale, her eyes well up.
They cloud over.
Its about to pour rain.
None of her best efforts will ever be good enough.
So she stares back into that glass.
With her eyes set to kill.
Who created her?
What will she do, just to get the approval and attention of her peers?
When will the day come when she can accept herself as she is?
Where did all those beautiful happy smiles disappear to?
Why was she born like "this" ?
And there will never be an answer.
Just those brown eyes.
Staring back.
Till they realize they are their own creator.
They decide who, what, when, where, and why, and how they live their life.
And really those eyes set to kill are only filled with sorrow and self-pity.
Over and over she is terrorized by the demons of the beauty world.
They rant and pound into her and hard-wire herself to believe she is just not good enough.
The girl is a murderer.
Everyday she wakes up and slathers her face with cover-up.
Flawless, perfection=beauty.
Then her blood-shot eyes are gobbed with mascara.
A pinch of rose on the cheeks. And don't forget to colour in those lips.
A perfect little pout.
Holding back the truth.
The girl is just wanting this to all to come to an end.
Her heart is all bottled up and tainted with a disease.
Its sick and tired.
Literally sick, running to the bathroom.
With closed doors she lets it all out.
Shoving her finger down her throat.
And sometimes nothing will even come out.
Her body is agonized she will try to feed it with just the media.
And when she steps back on that scale, her eyes well up.
They cloud over.
Its about to pour rain.
None of her best efforts will ever be good enough.
So she stares back into that glass.
With her eyes set to kill.
Who created her?
What will she do, just to get the approval and attention of her peers?
When will the day come when she can accept herself as she is?
Where did all those beautiful happy smiles disappear to?
Why was she born like "this" ?
And there will never be an answer.
Just those brown eyes.
Staring back.
Till they realize they are their own creator.
They decide who, what, when, where, and why, and how they live their life.
And really those eyes set to kill are only filled with sorrow and self-pity.
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