The girl looks up at you Her hair is a dancing fire You don’t know her name But of the chase you tire. She has bright brown eyes That see right through you She knows how to cheer you up When you are blue. Her limbs are long and willowy She walks of a certain grace Her posture is so perfect She could model for Vogue with her face. You look right back And even the light red-gold freckles on her nose Are so beautiful you want to cry You hold your gaze as she holds her pose. What creature is this? Who is she? The girl who looks a million dollars You think: I wish she was me. It’s only when you look a little closer Your fingers scratch the glass and spill your tea Goodness gracious! You think That beautiful girl is in fact me. People used to say to you What a hideous sight You were to everyone They used to say: ‘You’re giving my customers a fright!’ It’s only now people cluster around you And this greets you with a distaste so deep You despise them all You need to be alone to weep. The attention is killing you Your real self is lost within As they swarm around you like bees You think: I used to be trash in a bin. All those mean girls Who attend your school The ones who called you plug ugly Well now they say you’re cool. It’s only now they want to know you Are desperate to be your friends But they are foes You could be popular, on you it all depends. You want to be a somebody But at the same time you want to kick arse That’s when dreams of some one seeing the real you Splinter in painful, cold-cut glass.
July 27, 2011