Shes almost pretty when she cries
The tears slide down her pale white cheeks
In silent surrender
Smearing her eye makeup
And leaving wet trails on her soft skin
Her eyelashes glisten
With the salt of her teardrops
Like tiny prisms they fall
To her delicate pink lips
She brushes away a wisp
of beautiful chestnut hair
framing her face delicately
Her long thin fingers
tremble shakingly
With diswraught hands she wipes
at the traitor tears
Slipping through her ever so
perfect and stable mask
Inside she dies
But shes almost pretty when she cries