Her childhood would’ve been documented under the stars in the sky.
But they wanted media to be her whole entire life.
She’s young now
But when she’s old,
Everyone will already know
The stories she once told.
Every one will remember
Better than herself.
There are no secrets
When no secrets are kept on the shelf.
She will watch herself grow up
But so will everybody else.
Everyone sees happiness
When all she sees hell.
Who knows?
Only time will tell.
Maybe someday she’ll be happy
in her shell.
Painted and decorated by the eyes of others.
People who will never know the struggles of her mother.
Maybe one day she’ll see the sunlight.
Instead of the shining camera spot light.