She was glamorous.
She shone like the moon.
She glimmered like the brightest star.
But her glamour was beautiful at a distance.
Her shine was timely, depending on her sun.
Her glimmer was actually fire burning her from the insides.
Despite the fire, she shone brighter than before.
All the glitter she used to look happy was a diversion.
She had burned, there were scars all over her.
But no one found out, she filled all the gnawed placed with glitter so bright that it made her look like a piece of art.
No one could say she was hurt, all they could see were the beautiful patterns.
And in that process of hiding her scars, she lost her glamour less, simple, charming self.
Like a star which dies out but shines the brightest even in its death.