With longing eyes I stare at their table, They look like princesses that came out of a fable. Hair, makeup, and clothes they're so pretty, I look at myself and feel a sense of pity. As they ridicule embarrassment chokes me, the pain is like knives in my back that poke me. Why would they do this, everyday I long to know. They're popular and beautiful what else do they need to show? Never would I hurt, not a fly or an ant. I see they have nothing, that their friends are scant. The shock of how people can really be inside, opens up all of the self concealed lies. I look and I realize that I can see, the best person I can be is me. Beautiful, intelligent, kind little me. Only if everyone else could see, that in themselves there's more to who they are, not what they want to be.