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Beauty has been lost in the atmosphere,
breathing timidly amongst forgotten memories.
She tiptoes cautiously around the cracks
of her own decimated dreams.

Elegantly, she falls into an everlasting fissure,
and it closes, aborting all hope to be free.
Her pretense fades into revolting, rotten flesh,
She has become the victim of her own vanity.

Opposition to the world, her reflection is a scam,
She will never see the truth that she holds within.
Her eyes are hollow and desolate, no longer shining bright.
Where is the tranquility that left her innocent?

The sanctuary of her own mind is sacrificed,
for nothing less than her exterior.
She feigns smiles and laughs, ever so saccharine,
feeling less than simply inferior.

She is flesh and bone, the artificial flavor
that melts on the tip of everybody's tongue.
Without her own identity she suffocates,
Breathless, the life siphoned from her lungs.

Her faint smile tells a story,
That the lacerations uphold.
Her final seconds spent forsaken,
Her skin is lifeless and cold.