You see, there she goes.
A pretty eyed, glowy skinned,
Fair oh fair woman.
Her lips as pink as a rose
Her eyes as beautiful as the deep blue sea.
Just like the sea, her eyes had it’s own mystery.
A red scarf beautifully pinned up along with her hair do.
Her nails done perfectly.
Such a perfectionist, she was.
No one had noticed a scar on her forehead.
A scar, that tells her story.
Why was it hidden? What was she hiding?
Was it a mark that she was worried about?
Was it, that her mark would create a mess in her perfection?
Or was it that she didn’t want it to be noticed?
Her real self was someone else?
Her scar was never seen in the public.
It always was hidden.
The perfectionist wasn’t her.
The scar was her.