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.
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