Her hair chopped off, 
Unevenly..
Her bangs,
Messy..
As if she just woke up
Or got rediscovered 
From an old toy box 
Tucked away in the attic..
Her mascara’s smudged 
Under her dark puffy eyes,
As if she’d been asleep 
with leftover makeup 
For centuries..
Only for the heat of the summer 
To creep up on her 
And melt it off of her
Porcelain skin..
She looks drunk.. or high,
Like life’s been ****** 
Out of her eyes,
She’s not sure she’s alive,
She can barely walk properly 
As she’s been lying down, 
Half naked,
All this time,
Wondering where’s the rest 
Of her clothes 
And why her body’s 
Barely functioning..
She stumbles on her way to
The nearest mirror,
Takes a look at herself 
But doesn’t recognize her reflection 
Or what she’d become..
And she gets hit with this
Overwhelming sadness,
Wishes to go back to being
In deep slumber…
Wishes that whoever found her
Would put her right back 
Where she belongs..
In an old, isolated, 
Forgotten, toy box.