I want to render her,
In vintage depiction prints
With an emulsion that flames
Her soul completely to ashes

She has her (pretty) mask
So well fixed with laces and frills,
Porcelain cracks here and there;
No one notices it (for now).

(I hate hearing every time you say they like you
And you think that you're oh so great.)

Her words covered in saccharine exasperation,
Sounds so bitter and fractured with that
Faux candy coated lips of hers.

She conjures the demons in masquerades
Inside her decaying sugar rolled mind.

(I wish you would stop pretending
That you're in a fairy-tale world and realize
You live in reality, not some fiction.)

She tells everyone she is so pretty.
I would just like to dissect that sickening
Ulterior motives of her china shell,
Before she breaks down forever

(I'm going to end this, for your own sake.
I hope you're never going to know this or not.
Then everyone will notice your mask.)

You're cliché, not sweet and nice,
You are just like the rest of us.