Maybe she's born with it.
No, it’s just the Maybelline.
A tiara sparkles her crown
as it looks down on its inferior society.
She saves lives and the world,
one coat of mascara at a time.
Still, She's a turtle in her makeup.

She skins her knees. They don’t bleed.She just oozes regal beauty on a floor.At the end of day,
She her flaws expose themselves.
She skins knees. She bleeds.

Her glossy waves form a beauty tsunami,
and she washes away all insecurities
with her ocean of hair.
When the tsunami dies and the gloss dries,
her waves deteriorate to dry ripples.
They crack like a desert.

She sees herself in the mirror.
Beauty Queen faces another side.
Her tiara transforms to rust,
an ocean of waves adapt to a desert,
but she patches the knees,
and she continues to gildedly dazzle.