Beauty is a person.
Beverly is beauty personified.
Or at least she was, 'cos she's dead.
She was the cynosure of all eyes.
A sea of eyes leer and lust after her.
And a million lips wishfully bite for a kiss.
Men wished she was theirs.
And girls wished they were her.
Aphrodite probably wished same.
But yesterday, in her room,
Beverly didn't look beautiful,
as she hung from that noose she knotted herself.
Everyone was surprised.
Was she not beautiful and happy?
Behind the mask of every smile,
lies a trail of tears.
This is purely a work of #fiction.
To read another work about life, click here
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