Isn't she wonderful?
With her dark round eyes, and her painted on smile?
Wearing her heart on her sleeve like a medal she's proud of.
A medal she's earned through battles and pain,
A medal that, though tarnished, bears her name.

What lurks behind that war paint on her face?
What feelings and emotions are masked with each
Brush stroke of blush and layer of mascara?
Is this warrior woman real?
Or a figment of her own imagination,
Fearlessly showing the world that she is strong
Enough to hide herself behind a facade?

When each day she gets up and garbs her skin
Does she know that the world will see her as complete?
A being that couldn't possibly be hurting on the inside.
A person who always has a smile on her face,
And joy filling her heart.
But what happens when the doors close?
When the makeup comes off and the close shed?
Is the heart on her sleeve still stitched to her skin?
Or does she shed it like the rest of her armor?

What does a warrior look like alone in her room?