A corner of sunshine,

Of blonde hair,

Of golden, sunbathed girls

Clad in flowered bikinis.

A corner of flirtations,

Girls watch from a distance.

Boys check them out.

What beautiful girls.

Sun drenched days,

Moonlit nights.

Living for the moments,

Of perfect happiness.

And when there are none left,

Of perfect beauty, then.

If nothing else,

She'll always be beautiful.

She's like a painting,

You watch her and fantasize.

But all you can do is watch.

She's the shell of a person,

The soul long gone,

And trapped in a loose leaf book,

Scrawled across the lined pages.

Of a hidden diary.

Only there does she exist,

For once, she's fully clothed,

But has never been more exposed.

Keeps painting her shell,

Perfecting her physical body,

Killing more of her soul.

And it screams inside,

"Do you remember me?"

There's still hope for that girl

Who writes less and less.

All they want is to have her back,

As more than a plastic doll,

More than a ray of sunshine,

Camouflaging her secrets

Waiting for "love" to heal it all.

Love can't save her now.

It would if she knew what it was,

But for her, love makes her

Starve, despair, and long.

It leaves her feeling empty inside.

Waiting for something to be real,

Something to cling to

Until she reaches solid ground

And reunites with her soul.

So put the pieces together.

An open diary torn on her floor,

Diet pills hidden behind the dresser,

Wonder bra that's never good enough,

Friends who despise her,

A boyfriend who wants "one thing,"

And a faded memory of life,

Add glue, and you might have a soul.

We fall in love with her shell.

They lust after a painting,

The picture she presents to the masses.

They "love" her so much.

Only in her darkest dream,

When she destroys them all,

And runs for the rest of her life.

And look at modern "society,"

The false god of idolatry.

Blame ourselves for killing her,

Because we have killed her

More and more each day.

Let her suffer for our eyes sake,

Or recreate her soul

And bring our idol back to life.