I coat my lips in the glittering, shimmering sugar pink,

To avoid finding out what others would think,

If they saw the bleeding scabs and cuts that makes talking painful,

Makes peoples treatment of me disgusted and disdainful,

Lipgloss, pink covering up my scars,

As seen on 'Secrets Of The Stars',

Magazine in every shop and rack,

'Beauty' is dead, not coming back.

The End

52 comments about this poem Feed