Pretty Young Lady

Pretty young lady sits in a chair
Twisting and twirling her golden, blonde hair
Tasting the tears on her full, red lips
Feeling eyes watch the sway of her hips

Silently sitting
She knows just what they see
A creation
Her creation
Someone she could never be

Charming, disarming
She knows the words to say
To lead them into thinking
She's a ok

A girl so fair
Would surely never dare
Think thoughts so dark
Or fell so bare

But in this world
She's been tossed around
Broken, and shattered to bits
Some pieces have never been found

Alas, she knows they'll never see
The pain and misery
Burdened on her sweet shoulders
And tucked away into secret folders

The time to tell someone has long since passed
People liked her, they never last
Why couldn't they see through her lovely facade?
Were they just too ignorant, there minds not so broad?

It's not easy
To tell someone your depressed
Its a lot to take in
A lot to digest

All she wanted was for them too see
To look into her deep, brown eyes and read
I am not what I appear to be