Under the layers of her makeup,
Are the scars fate made;
Beyond those kohl-dark eyes,
Are the depths life gave.
Between those luring colored lips,
Is the prayer of her pain;
Behind those pretty brave smiles,
Are the veiled-grief cries.
Inside that long beautiful neck,
Are stuck, lumps of truth;
Within her body of curves,
Is a heart that weeps.
It’s part of her job,
To look the way she does…
She perfectly paints herself
Wiping her original craves.
She screams in silence,
For the day of her release –
From the clutches of the evil,
That trafficked her to hell…
She denies her desire for family and friends,
Buries her hopes of true love-life.
Wedding bells are music of her lost, distant dreams;
Wedding vows are a joke, her laugh sadly sighs.
All she wishes is for those real days,
Where she can live, free of those fake layers;
All she wishes is for a real night’s sleep,
Without being woken up by imps and the pimps.
praying for those souls…
in response to the prompt, ‘layers’
image source – http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zci99iNhrig/SotR1JDjiZI/AAAAAAAALIY/3Q__lmF980I/s400/MakeupArtCosmetics-RichardPhillips-Painter-300.jpg