Her mind as blank as the clean board,
Her heart as broken as the shattered glass;
Her smile as fake as Madonna's hair;
Waiting for this time to pass;
Alone she sits in her prison of walls,
Hiding her tears from strangers, now friends;
For there has never been a better time,
For her to put up a nice fake smile.
The heart remains a closed door;
Thorns enclosing it, piercing it at leisure,
Hidden it sits, shattered to the core;
For her tears are the pearls only she can treasure.
Alone she stares, up at the lonely moon;
Sending her messages to the home far away;
For there has never been a better time;
For her to pretend to be all fine.