She wanted to be the girl in his poems,
The one he would never forget.
She wanted to be the girl in his sketches,
The one he would always need,
Just like the air he breathes.
She wanted to be the girl in his dreams,
The one he would fight for,
One he would forever be at the side of.
Instead she became the girl who wrote odes to her pain,
In trying to become his muse,
She lost her own self.
The girl who pretended to be happy even when sad,
Tried to be strong even when weak,
All this just for him;
Her hollow eyes had no expression,
When she realised she was so replaceable, so easily forgotten.
Even after all that, Lust driven men chased after her,
Trying to claw at the numb remains of a body, with a shattered soul,
Nobody seemed to care, she had emotions too.
Left Uncared & Unloved for, people sing praises of her strength,
The girl who became her own muse.
A girl who seems stone cold,
Shrouded in a constant mystery,
One who loved and fought with all her being,
something the ones in her life failed to reciprocate.
A wounded tigress they call her,
But she is just a girl with a dead soul,
One whose tears fail to flow,
One who feels she has no regrets, To the extent that,
She finds her mere Existence pointless.