Framed. Poised. Perfect.

The picture states the story.

Clearly. Precise. Of course I'm okay!

Why do they ask? Each day as if my walls are just glass.

But I see a reflection. A smile so sincere. No.

So insincere.

The image.

That image.

Who is it? It brings me tears. Such fragility in her eyes.

She despises being seen.

Desperate shivering for attention.

She despises being seen.