Just Look Behind That (Empty) Smile

She strikes a pose but dies inside; nobody knows she's a beautiful suicide.

Her canvas is her skin and her paintbrush is a knife.

They never questioned her or asked her why she cried,

Nobody tried to help her smile in life.

So, she picked up the brush,

And she started painting.

Overwhelmed by that congenial rush,

She took it to the point of fainting.

She laughed along with many a 'friend',

And she hid away her lovely tears.

She ran away in her dreams and would tend,

To keep, far from the world, her fears.

She started buying white flowers,

From a man she met across the street.

Everyday started getting sours,

Running to him with eager feet.

Oh, it's not what you think,

See, naive our girl was not.

Rest assured, to her knees she would not sink.

Besides, all the white flowers in the world wouldn't have given that man a shot.

And then he realised that his chances were slim,

Oh, yes he did.

So there were no more flowers from him.

So he left her on that decline in which she slid.

She went further down,

Sunken face, pale skin.

And that smile finally broke into a frown.

So she grew up and engaged in sin.

Her friends all left her,

The laughter going with them.

The days all went in a tainted red blur,

As she painted once more; our little artist gem.

But one day,

Her painting was complete.

And from then on they would say

That her life was rather obsolete.