Plastic

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A lofty life she led,
Way up there in the sky
It’s so fake,
She knows—
Yet still she pushes on;
to become that girl,
the girl they want to see.

Perfection on her face,
A mask, a veil, a picture.
Always pressured
to do everything right
to follow in that shadow
to be that girl they always dreamed
would one day have it all.

She didn’t know herself,
nor did any around,
who she really was;
the girl with the wide fake grin.
They had her made
by the hands of the finest sculptor;
in all she does, we see it—
the prodigy, the gift, the dream.

Someday she’ll want more, they know,
way deep down beneath.
But both are surface swimmers,
so on the daydream played.
An open book, we called her,
everything laid out to display.
But really an empty shell,
nothing to display,
they’d crafted her so—
none can tell.

Underneath the layer, if rarely you lifted up,
you may find a glimpse of turmoil,
a fleeting shadow of doubt.
That poor girl they never knew
had only just awakened;
She’d never be who they’d planned—
Built on lies,
there was nowhere to go.

Who she is, none would ever know—
For when dawn struck that day
truth broke with it free.
Forever was she gone.
Because if plastic is reality,
there is no true life to be had.





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