she calls herself
"damaged goods"
as if the past stains her future with ***** fingers
marking thoughtless insults on her forehead
for all to see and judge
as if her gaze is shrouded in darkness
only able to comprehend pessimism and bleakness
never able to find love
for she is broken beyond compare
as if her lips will never be able to find another's
for she is so repulsive none will touch her

she fears that strangers can see through her
thinly veiled paranoia
and her vision turns their bored gazes into accusing glares
silently judging her with every blink
she wants to crawl away
and pull her knees to her chest and cry
she wonders if her smiles,
stretched thin across her cheeks
are obviously fake
she wonders when her acting career will be up
and then she will be tossed onto the streets
her defectiveness obviously revealed
to an invisible crowd, watching and waiting
for her time to be up

she calls herself
"damaged goods"
because she cannot comprehend
how valuable she really is
the same way a sunflower brightens a desolate field
she brings laughter to the heavy hearted
she brings admiration from the shy
she brings comfort from the ones
just like her,
who are afraid to be themselves