Her dreams of being in a Vogue magazine
Shattered in a corner now she is sitting under the covers gathering the pain.
Hair which once she felt proud of are now hugging the floor while she closes her eyes and goes insane.
Crumbled to the sand,
Her dreams of dressing pretty ,
Being confused whether to curl hair or to straighten them up.
What is even left to do now?
Hell is waiting to welcome her
While the heaven is sheding tears on death of the swan
Drowning deep in water with a frighting yet gracious voice.
Looking everyday in the mirror is making hatred for her grow
Now no matter whether her eyes are dry or wet with the tears that are yet to be shed
There always will be an open wound near her heart that will scream her distress.
