As she looked in the mirror.
A vision slowly getting unclearer.

She hated her freckles.
She hated her eyes.  
She hated the curves at the tops of her thighs
They were magnets to her eyes.

But outside her window.
Was a boy in his room.
He couldn't help but think of a girl he knew.

A girl with freckles.
And pretty brown eyes.
A girl who was beautiful.
No matter what size.

You left with no whisper.

No discussion.

No note.

Leaving me with empty hope.

You're oblivious to the scars.

On my increasingly fragile heart

The decline in standers.

We praise those who pander.

The bread and butter of art.

That couldn't save a creative heart.

Just a fan watching their favorite artist sell poison in a can.

The ultimate war.

It's money verses feelings.

It's money verses the truth that lies in our heart.

It's money verses art.