I am a beautiful vase.

Society glances and admires

My elegance, my collectiveness,

My flawlessness. 

But this one, simple glance

Does not allow them to see

The cracks running along the surface

Attemtping to remain discreet.  

Fortunately for me,

The glue allows the cracks to hide.

It filters the truth

By covering it with fake beauty.

Behind the glue,

Behind the makeup and the filters,

I fall apart.

I am nothing but broken, usless shards.

But that's okay, because society

Only cares about my appearance.

So as long as makeup and filters exist,

I can remain "beauiful".