She was beautiful,
Like a rose.
Except her fingers
Destroyed everything she touched.
She was like Midas.
Except instead of gold,
Things turned to black dust.
Everything was destroyed.
Maybe she did this
Because her heart was cold
And lacked warmth.
All she wanted 
Was to be happy and loved.
Instead this beautiful girl,
Was suffering.
Suffering from the inside.
With no way to express it.
No one to tell.
No one to help her.
She suffered alone.
Beautiful on the outside,
But dangerous on the inside.
She kept her distance from people
Because people just hurt her
She never had anyone to trust
Because those she did
Just betrayed her.
Look in the mirror.
What do you see?
A beautiful girl staring back at me.
Flip the mirror.
What does she see?
And misery.
You see beauty.
She sees flaw after flaw.
She sees pain.
Alone at night 
She screams in terror.
Because all she wants 
Is to be fixed.
She wants to be likeable
And find someone to trust.
Someone to take away
Her damaging touch.
It's ruining her 
And her life.
She can't take it anymore!
She wants to be free!
Free of this curse
Placed upon her by satan himself.
She did not ask
For this life.
It was just the life she was given.
So she does 
What she knows
How to do best.
She stands alone
Throws rope 
Over the branch of the
weeping willow tree, 
And places her head 
Between the ropes.
One last blood curdling shriek 
and she dies with a smile on her face.
Beauty is not all its cracked 
Up to be.

Published by Angelica Powell