Your words are the knives
which I use to whittle away
my imperfections, my
flaws - Are they not beauty?
Monroe - So celebrated yet so
disrespected, yes, I am.

But I hope to one day
pluck away my unruly tangles
and reveal my inner glowing self;
glowing like the desert:
vast, smooth, yet
Is this innocence?
My once young self,
so smooth and pure
to the inner demons which now
plague my haunted mind,
choke my voice
until I am silenced in a world
in which I am nothing,
trapped by expectation,
deemed unworthy by
Reality - O, so cruel and unrelenting
yet the truth...

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