As she walks down the red carpet,
her mid-night, blue, diamond gown,
sparkles, in the moonlight.
She's beautiful.
She's perfect.
Someone, all girls want to be like,
all guys want to have.
An idol,
for the world.
Her hair, and make up,
done just right.
Nothing is immoral.
She raises her hand,
and waves.
The million of people
explode into cheers,
chanting out,
only her name.
But as we look closer,
into her hazel eyes,
is what we see right?
Is she really that lucky?
Is she really that perfect?
For beneath that stunning gown,
the crystal smile,
the ideal hair and make-up,
there lies the truth.
The pain.
The suffering.
The misery.
The torment.
Maybe what we saw,
wasn't, all that beautiful,
wasn't all that perfect.
Maybe what we saw,
wasn't the happiness,
we made out to believe.
as she walks down the red carpet,
all we see,
is a destroyed beauty.