the pretty kind of people

People are not pretty,

They are frighteningly maddening.

They feel with the intensity of the sun.

Even at the surface,

Riddled with thin paper cuts-

That look shallow from afar,

But go deeper than you will ever imagine.

Hear them scream in the middle of the night

Silent but so loud in their pain.

The things we once romanticized,

those dark eyes and shy smiles

were once tortured cries on painful trials.

Can you see who they once were?

The parts of themselves they had to kill,

To allow the other parts to survive.

Go past the makeup, the shield,

the mask made from the blood we shed.

Go past it and you will see,

People are not pretty,

They are intensely real.