Do you know her?

Does anybody know her behind

  this mask she wears?

Every morning she looks in the mirror, watching
     the chains of expectation treading her weary soul.

The image she will never fit, the person she will never be.

She looks in the mirror and sees the a faint figure that has been refined,

polished,

and shoved into a contained box,

shackled and
   chained.

Wearily after brushing her teeth, and combing her hair,

she shoves her insecurities down her pockets and plasters a face to hid what’s behind.

No one can see.

 No one can see what’s lost inside,

and the little light that is  burning out.