Imperfect Perfect

The perfect painting- She’s walked for long adorning it; With an array of aromatic colours It’s been her identity for quite a while Only perfect it is not and she’s the only one who knows For within a tormented painting glares daringly at her As if ridiculing her to put up a fight that was long lost Having savored genuineness in her- Her emotions took a hard turn And now it’s hard for her to distinguish between true and false She believed in love’s greatness over all emotions And she feels it but somehow mistrusts it So as cold creates more room for himself within All other emotions kind of follow suit Creating another unwanted version of her So she plays the perfect role with an ease for the outside world But inside normalcy grows weaker Inside where the perfect painting she longs to hang