Exposed

I don't want you to see my scars,
But they're displayed
Like bugs in glass jars.

My blood congeals,
My wounds won't heal,
Won't let me be the person
I know is real.

All people do is say,
"Rub some dirt on it",
But they keep shoveling
hurt on it.

I live with my decisions
And I live with my pain.
My heart is weary
And tears fall like rain.

I hate who I am or
At least the girl in the mirror
That I see.
I can't look at my reflection
Without feeling guilty.

Ashamed of the pig
That stares back with
Lifeless eyes.
Embarrassed of the thing
That sits there and cries.

What sickens me most
Is my immense self-pity
And my need
To be called pretty.

The other half of me shouts,
"Get up, do something!"
Don't just whimper and sob.
Clean yourself up, you worthless slob

Stop feeling bad for yourself
And change who you are.
Put on a smile
And shine like a star.

But while stars seem
Like they gleam,
They're only their
schemes.

The white-toothed smiles
Are painted on,
The despair polished out of the eyes.
Their appearances, based on lies.

And the shining stars
Are just as hopeless
And faded as
The dead ones are.

But all stars did shine once,
Before they fell.
Back when bodies were just shells,
Not personal hells.

Back when
Personalities mattered,
Before the good ideals
Shattered.

Can we go back to that time
When everything was beautiful?
Or is that now
Impossible?