The Mona Lisa

And The Mona Lisa is tired - her canvas cracked from stares A billion eyes dissect but no-one repairs Her smile is a lie Just a facade created to survive They worship the fallacy but the woman's been lost. Forgotten in history her own identity to her remains a mystery She had a voice once, a name, a life- Now, she's only a sum of their expectations Lost in becoming a true masterpiece So polished that there's no personality. I wonder if they soothe their imperfections with her crafted beauty Perfectly imperfect though hidden behind reflected beliefs Even if I scream they'll only hear silence. Even if I change they'll frame me the same. They will never see me as me, Because I'm their Mona Lisa And it doesn't matter what I want to be.