She thought long and hard about beauty,
Not truly knowing what it meant.
“It’s only skin deep” her mother would say,
applying her third coat of makeup.
Jane was plain, and she fit that name.
She was okay with that, she enjoyed blending.
She loved being lost in a crowd.
Jane wished her insides were beautiful,
But her head was filled with ugly thoughts.
She hated and plotted and thought of death,
Wishing her thoughts could stop.
But the toiled around and took roots,
Making her head their home.
She wondered if she were different,
If she were possessed.
Some ugly screeching demon,
Whom only she could understand.
Whispering dirty, ugly ideas,
Sneaking imagines in her head.
She felt alone in her sadness,
Jane wanted to break free.
But she thought that she was crazy,
she thought she were mad.
Her thoughts eventually consumed her,
She died wishing she had known.
The touch, or love of anything,
Instead of feeling all alone.