The Women Who Smoke In Their Bathrooms

I am writing for the women
Who would disappear from the crowd
And go to their bathrooms, 
To wallow in watching their own reflection
Dissolve in the smoke 
Coming out of their own adorned faces
For the world to see
Because these morons can be fooled
They are so dimwitted to ever see
The ugliness behind those faces of women
That the smile they wear is a contracture,
That the light in their eyes 
is their burning existence peeking through
...
To the women who smoke in their bathrooms, 
Who are deformed and damaged by the savageries of life
Who'd keep themselves starved, dehydrated and sleep deprived
Because they are not used to getting enough of anything
Except for the hurt
And even when the life takes pity on them
They'd steal someone else's hurt
To feed their own addiction of pain.