Cry.

She would apply a fake smile
For the camera, like a professional
Makeup artist.

Only crying when
Home alone.

She would sing like a canary,
But behind closed doors she would wail
And weep.

Nothing made any sense, then again,
It rarely ever does.

The torrents of tears, deprived
Her of a sound sleep.

Her delicate floral perfume she always
Wore, to mask the scent of sadness.
Spent most of her whole life searching
For herself. For answers.

However, she remains left unfound.

She never lets that stop her,
Though, she's always quick to
Dab away her tears with her
Favourite handkerchief.

One, of pure white.

She always remembers that
After a much needed cry,
A genuine smile would soon
Resume it's rightful place.

That after every storm, a rainbow will
Always light up the Sky that was once
A smudge of grey.

The pain she bares, temporary.
The love she always will spread,
And carry.

Here, to stay.

- Alexandra Pierotti.