I am a beautiful vase.
Society glances and admires
My elegance, my collectiveness,
But this one, simple glance
Does not allow them to see
The cracks running along the surface
Attemtping to remain discreet.
Fortunately for me,
The glue allows the cracks to hide.
It filters the truth
By covering it with fake beauty.
Behind the glue,
Behind the makeup and the filters,
I fall apart.
I am nothing but broken, usless shards.
But that's okay, because society
Only cares about my appearance.
So as long as makeup and filters exist,
I can remain "beauiful".