From deep within,

I can smell the deception,

She wore fake skin,

Owned since inception,


Suspending upon a rope,

That she once laughed at,

But now all hope,

Was surrounded by gnats


Her art was splattered,

Around the white tub,

Only wished to be flattered,

But instead tears up,


She wore trophies

One her wrist,

Each battle costs a fee,

Because she ceased to exist


Why once skin was,

Against fabric,

That her flaws,

Were no longer elaborate?


When she was in need,

Who was there,

When she had a nosebleed,

Or a helpful prayer?


No one in the entire city,

Because everyone,

Was too busy,
Having their own fun.