pouting red lips in mirrors
and messing up hair just right
she likes to pretend sometimes
that she's pretty
she likes to pretend sometimes
that she doesn't care
what she looks like

deception

is what you call it
in her head
she spins these lies
she's a black widow
trapping flies

she's a doll
in porcelain walls
secrets spilling out between the cracks

she likes to feel good about herself
pile nice thoughts up to fill the empty space
yet once everything becomes unperfect
she starts to hate her face

she's supposed to
love her body

because it's supposed to be
her temple

but it's not

it's ancient ruins

hidden under baggy sweaters
soft and pale
skinny and yellow

beauty marks everywhere
ugly marks
whatever

connect the d.o.t.s

until it all fits

and it's harmony