Who is she?

She is a pretentious lady, who would have known?

Perhaps she is afraid her hidden past will be shown.

She hides herself in a sacred corner,

To the world, she appears as nothing more than a mere performer.

With my curious mind and pure intentions to find,

I asked her, "Why are you this way? What's behind?"

She told me how adding layers to herself has protected her from getting hurt,

There are already many parts of me that have been burnt.

"I don't want to be myself,

Because I am afraid, will anyone be ever able to love my true self?

So I pretend to be someone I'm not,

Just a pretty face without any burns, 'cause why not?

But deep down, I hope someone gets me,

"You are enough," someone who tells me.

But in this world, people can be vicious,

The existence of true love is still suspicious.

If it exists, why hasn't it found me?

I can't be someone's perfect one, forgive me.

While she kept saying this, a beautiful picture appeared,

It was her raw self talking to me without getting feared.

How do I tell her she doesn't need to pretend?

That her true self is worth capable to be held.

Even the lady she created can never be as beautiful as her,

'Cause the soul could only be found where those eyes were.

She is a pretentious lady, who would have known?

Her real self is still yet unknown.

-LD