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.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741