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Perfect?

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They all see her.
They see her smile.
They see her straight A’s.
They see her skin-
Perfect, unblemished.
Beautiful-
They see her clothes-
Shirts cut just right,
Letting you know what she’s got,
But leaving you knowing you’ll never get it.
Skirts short enough to let you know
She knew how to have fun,
But she wasn’t going to have that kind of fun.
Heels just high enough
To put her beauty over the top,
But low enough she wasn’t just another Barbie.-
They see her, always with someone else.
Never alone.
They see her, always helping,
Always giving advice,
Always doing whatever she can for
Someone else.
They all see her happy.
They all see her as perfect.
They all see her beauty,
Her perfection,
Yet they miss,
The truth.
They miss the pain
Hidden deep in her eyes
As she smiles,
Helping them with their problems,
Wishing someone would see hers.
They miss the scars,
Hidden beneath that pretty silver watch
She says
Her father gave her,
Before he was deployed.
They miss the truth behind that watch.
They miss the engraved words on the face
‘Just a little longer…’
They miss how her ‘mother’
Looks nothing like her.
They miss everything.
Everything she wishes they would see.
Or at least try to.
She wants someone to even bother asking
“How are you?”
Or
“Are you okay?”

But no one ever does.
All they know is she
Seems
Happy. She
Acts
Happy
She’s always helping because she’s
Perfect.
And that’s what perfect people do.


But I’m not perfect.
I cry every day.
I’m struggling to keep it hidden.
I hate this life I’ve created.

They think I’m perfect.
But I’m the farthest thing from it.



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