Ah, high school; written in 10th grade math (the source of all good poetry). Enjoy! |
*Reflections* Standing there the smooth glass as sharp as the ice in their eyes Reflecting all of your imperfections like a banner of your mistakes Too tall- Too short- Too thin- Too fat- Too odd- Too ordinary- Too Anything but Content. Standing there wishing for that glass to shatter and with it your flaws so that they would blow away into the wind Too stupid- Too smart- Too quiet- Too loud- Too friendly- Too hateful- Too Anything but Pretty. Hiding behind your bright yellow coat, your high heeled shoes Hiding in plain sight where no one can find you Too this- Too that- Not Fair. Too Anything but Those Girls who wink at you from the covers of those glossy paged magazines- Their heads wider than their stomachs. Too this- Too that- Not Fair. Too Anything but Those Girls who walk like models down the brightly lit runway called High School. Too Anything but Those Girls who flash their white smiles, and bounce their blond hair, and flutter their black eyelashes and Those Boys, who stare hypnotized by their perfection and pass you on the stairs, not noticing your bright yellow coat, your high heeled shoes Too this- Too that- Not Fair. Mirror, mirror, on the wall: you've got the Wrong Girl The Fairest of Them All lives down the street in the green-shuttered house. <end> [Well, that's the end. I like it, but the question is-- do you? Respond, if you please! Much thanks!] |