Superficial mementoes splattered on social media for all to see.
Silent tears are hidden from those who love you most.
Psuedo-proposoals with cubic zirconia stones seem to be trending.
Lies of true love weigh less than the electroplated metal band on your hand.
Words of affection adorning your stats are just meaningless jumble not worth the characters wasted to occupy someone's timeline space.
However, you breathe life into its meaning because it is your hope and life line to some disfigured form of love.
Living 364 days abused, neglected, and used only to play a princess, not a queen, for an hour or two one day out of the year, but you expect the world to believe that your love is real.
Perhaps it is real to you but to the world its authenticity can be confirmed with the black ring around your eye, the thirst in your intentions, and the scene that is constantly seen.
Your love or your mental compacity is truly unbalanced and causing your life a bad case of undiagnosed gangrene.
