Mona lisa, lend me your smile...

Dry your eyes pretty girl, you're too young to be feeling this pain, this rediculous pain. You're much to kind to be falling in the hands of drug addictions, sex, and booze. You're much to smart to let yourself be used by the endless string of men that touch your body instead of caress it. You're much to fragile to press that blade to your wrist and scream inside your head what you fear to scream aloud... And yet, you allow this. You allow life to grab you and shake you as if you weren't born to stive. You talk so much about being strong, about not caring what people think, about loving yourself, and yet here we are... here you are, a messy, crying, red-eyed, swollen lip, bulimic, wrist cutting girl with no self-esteem. A girl, that's what you are, you aren't a woman, a real woman stands her ground and let's no man have their way with her. A real woman loves who she is, every hair, every scar, every stretch mark on her body. A map, that's what it is... a map, the marks on ones body tells visitors of the life they've lived, where they've gone, and what they've done. So why are you still despising yourself? Why must you treat what God has given you with such disgrace? Brush the hair off your eyes, wipe your tears and smile. You have too much love to share, too much love to let it go to waste. Smile Mona Lisa, your life has just begun...