Reception Into Madness

Hey reader! Welcome back to Versebound. I am back with a new poem for you. Read on..

She walks like thunder, dressed to kill,

A striking goddess with iron will.

But beneath the glam, her world’s askew—

She’s breaking apart, and no one has a clue.

They call her spoiled, a luxury brat,

“She’s got it all, why’s she acting like that?”

Her screams are labeled as drama, excess,

While her soul’s unraveling, thread by thread.

The truth? She’s drowning behind the gloss,

Her nights are medicated, her mornings lost.

The scars they don’t see, she covers with care,

Concealer, perfume—her desperate flair.

Her teeth untouched, her hair undone,

Her body’s a battlefield, every war unsung.

Her glasses? “A fashion stunt,” they say—

Not the lens to a life fading away.

Her blogs, her cries, her desperate yells,

All bounce off the walls of judgmental hells.

Because pain, in their eyes, must be grotesque—

If you don’t look broken, you’re just a pest.

But here she stands, her silence loud,

A ticking bomb in the midst of a crowd.

Her madness is subtle, a stylish decay,

A queen on the edge, wasting away.

You see perfection? She feels despair.

Her beauty’s a mask, her heart laid bare.

And while the world adores her grace,

Her soul’s slipping to a darker place.

Reception into madness, bold and cruel,

Where screams go unheard in a world of fools.