She's sitting on the couch,
by the fireplace,
under the solemn red light of her room.
She is "the portrait of sadness" — the unpopular one,
the quiet one,
the least favorite of all.
A ghost in the crowd,
a whisper in the background.
You beg her to smile.
She tries, awkwardly, uncomfortably, under the unappreciating pressure of your selfish demands.
She gives that "fake" smile you laugh at!
As if her refusal — her inability to be artificial — is a means of your shameful fun.
But who would distort the beloved portrait of sadness?
Is sorrow really that ugly?
Is it not of human emotions?
Can intensity, can that fire in her soulful eyes,
Not take the place of demanding, over-demanding joy
in a photograph,
nor in the real world?
Not even once?
**** Can you just let her be?
Let her dance,
or even breathe freely in a world of her own,
rather than acting awkwardly
in one of yours?
Would you, for God's sake, just let her breathe?
Don't ever beg her to smile.
For she is the portrait of sadness.
For she's only beautiful in her sorrow.
The very thing you fear.
The very thing you hate.
But secretly feel
in the depths of your hearts!
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 8:47 PM UTC
She's sitting on the couch,
by the fireplace,
under the solemn red light of her room.
She is "the portrait of sadness" — the unpopular one,
the quiet one,
the least favorite of all.
A ghost in the crowd,
a whisper in the background.
You beg her to smile.
She tries, awkwardly, uncomfortably, under the unappreciating pressure of your selfish demands.
She gives that "fake" smile you laugh at!
As if her refusal — her inability to be artificial — is a means of your shameful fun.
But who would distort the beloved portrait of sadness?
Is sorrow really that ugly?
Is it not of human emotions?
Can intensity, can that fire in her soulful eyes,
Not take the place of demanding, over-demanding joy
in a photograph,
nor in the real world?
Not even once?
**** Can you just let her be?
Let her dance,
or even breathe freely in a world of her own,
rather than acting awkwardly
in one of yours?
Would you, for God's sake, just let her breathe?
Don't ever beg her to smile.
For she is the portrait of sadness.
For she's only beautiful in her sorrow.
The very thing you fear.
The very thing you hate.
But secretly feel
in the depths of your hearts!
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