Her clothing tattered
face wearing deep scars and purple scratches
like a porcelain doll covered in fractures
she smiles
a stark contrast to her demeanor
she's lovely, they tell her

glue would feel better than flattery
but the irony makes it easier
as her scream is heard as laughter
and her sadness goes nowhere so freely

she falls to the sharks and nearly dies
they applaud with madness because she survives
and although she's more dead than alive
they dance

anticipating the next song
as her wounds sting and her insides burn
her head spins and her stomach churns
a bitter taste
straight to the lump in her throat

she shouts obscenities to the gathering crowd
but they hand her a mic to add to the sound
her old wounds are awakened by the new
and no matter what she says
she's misunderstood

they listen intently and miss it by miles
still she smiles

she might as well
forced to live in her personal hell
until death grants her life
at the start of the end

when she can break instead of bend
she'll rest
and she'll smile til then
she can only smile