Staring at the girl who used to be innocent and pure,
Now just a mannequin of hated nothingness.
Dressed in the color red, a representation of love,
Now representing only that of which she lost.
The tears running down a perfect porcelain face,
Smudged makeup smeared upon its appearance.

I am beginning to realize I was nothing more than a burden, a bother, a mirror reflection.
Mocking me as my world comes crashing down,
My heart now unknown and forgotten.
The perfect picture you painted me to be was not even me at all.
Dolling me up, and puppetting me around, to follow your every will and whim.
You pressed me into this mold of a person, you taught me who I should and shouldn’t be.
So now that you’re gone, which me, is me...?