They look, they judge — they always stare,

As if I am nothing but skin and hair.

A flawless face, a pretty view —

Is there nothing deeper, true?

 

No mind to spark, no thoughts to fight,

No dreams that burn through sleepless night.

No voice, no fire, no soul, no will —

Just quiet beauty, cold and still.

 

How fast they judge, how swift replace,

One polished doll, one fresher face.

As if my worth could fade with age,

A quiet bird locked in a cage.

 

Strange — I thought I meant far more…

But beauty is all you counted for.

As if my mind, my fire, my grace

Could all be swapped for another face.

Was I just décor for your empty core?