A Hidden Victim and a Felon

Cherry lips puckered, as a shade darker than a crow's wing covers its seductiveness. 

Crazy grin with diastema hides behind them, afraid to come out of its unsettling fortress.

Innocent blonde curls fry under an iron's sizzling surface into emotionless straws of hair.

Snazzy hot magenta pops off behind her ears, but everyone is colouring their hair nowadays, to be fair.

Corseted figure stands, hiding any organs that could be unflattering.

Society's standards are met, yet there was some chattering.

Fishnets barely cover her childhood bruises but trace other lines on her thighs.

It was quite bothering to be ashamed, but now, they are in disguise.

A private school's plaid skirt dangerously short.

Studies weren't really her best forte.

Trendy bag too heavy to carry, but no one can know about how her meds are one too many.

Going to get her prescription by the gas station's dumpster,

she wonders 

When was life going to quit the role of the jokester?

Nothing pleased anyone, and not everyone is still pleased.

Can she stop caring for a sense of relief?

A victim gains no attention. A felon does.

Where were they when your crying was nothing more than a buzz?