Behind the curtains you could find, a mystery so deep, no soul itself merely could define.
She was a beautiful disaster, awaiting to unfold.
Shielded from the bitterness of society, one that can be so cold.
Doubt flowing through every inch of her body.
Insecurities slipping through her veins, how could she conquer the monster.
If the monster is who she reins.
Expectations running so high, as her hope began to crumble.
Now just a pitiable soul, living so humble .
Society wins again, because like last time, it was easier just to give in.
To step back and surrender her unpretentious being, was much easier then stepping up to society's image of beauty.
Which is truly demeaning.
Guide that inspired this poem: