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The Two Sides of The Story
The Fat Girl
Daily races down the school hallways,
hopes to avoid the divider of all ways.
Alas another, series of unfortunate events threaten to occur,
spotted hyenas spot her, and nowhere present is Mary of Perpetual Succor.
The layers of lard and cloth provide no shelter,
to the inevitably approaching banter.
Now hover the omen three,
Like smog that charge death as fee.
but calling it 'initiating'.
''Fat tub waste of grub!" repeatedly chanted,
teachers' blind eyes continually flaunted.
"Swallow me whole mother earth", she cries silently,
once strong belief in goodness of humanity now shattered daily.
Everyday slowly chips a piece of her soul,
leaving nothing but an empty whole
Her esteem peaked at age four,
at 16 trampled down to nothing more.
"Just be your self"stated her mother at that tender age,
she wondered how she'd be anyone else, alas if only she stayed true to that adage.
Smothers self with creamy, whipped, sugary, salty, golden crunchy, crispy luscious 'goodness',
hope she lives to see life's awesomeness.
The Skinny Girl
Sashays down the halls splits the crowd like a coconut right down the middle,
along with her three minions barely able to solve a simple riddle.
Tears down self esteem for snacks,
to make up for what she lacks.
Cat calls returned with snooty laughter,
ready for the bloodless yet most painful of all slaughters.
Parading their newest purchase like a show on Broadway,
"Cheetah spots" the new trend right off Milan's runway.
Target almost instantly located,
another fat girl, a Shanniqua, or similarly complicated.
Yet another pitiful prey spotting,
by the once preyed upon leader now avenging.
Hapless victims have no chance,
to defend what will strike them with a cobra's stance.
None notice the voiceless cries of the tormentors' soul,
for everyone else is fixated on the bullies' stereotypical role.
Not realizing that she's troubling them for trouble's sake,
to prevent the troubled from the cheats, liars and deceptive ways of the fake.
She silently cries ten tears for everyone they shed,
she knows the pain they undergo, after all her 'Father' knew happiness when she alone bled.
'Fat tub waste of grub' she heard when she was old enough to remember,
by a caretaker who was a deceptive tormentor instead of a trusted family member.
Popular and impeccably perfect in image,
a feat her ancestors have kept up with ways if known would be a society-shaking outrage.
If only she knew a better outcome,
the rest that she affects wouldn't know the evils of the social kingdom
Eyes ran out of tears at age of six,
today she continually waits for her daily fix.
She wonders what propels her backup,
was it their loss of childhood too that they're trying to cover up.
Surprised at first by the indifference of the authorities,
but then realized righteousness was another one of Hollywood's fantasies .
She needs an eyeopener,
someone to show her life can be so much fuller