Poetry

The Perfect Disguise 

Nobody spoke to the girl dressed in black, 

They’d say horrible things about her behind her back, 

“Just look at her face, filled with anger and distaste”, 

She swore she wasn’t angry, that’s just her face,

 

No one bothered to look past her eyes, 

Swollen and red, the perfect disguise, 

Shifty glaces and lowered voices, 

All this chatter, yet it made her voiceless, 

 

And yet no one knew who she really was, 

Preconceived notions -- about who she really was, 

Not even she knew the answer to that question, she had to lament, 

These introspective thoughts spin round and round in her head, 

 

Nobody spoke to the girl dressed in black, 

They’d say horrible things about her behind her back, 

The words they spoke cut deep like a knife,

Little did they know she was fighting for her life, 

 

No know knew who she really was, 

Her soul was tattered, life she was bound to waste, 

Instead she just sat there, broken, filled with anger and distaste, 

And yet she swore she wasn’t angry, that’s just her face.