January 26, 2011
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Am I pretty?
My mother tells me “yes, of course”
But looking in the mirror
Is like doing dreadful chores
It’s not dislike toward my outward appearance
It’s the hate toward what’s inside
Life used to be fun, pretty
But now I've got no pride
I make a good grade on a test
Or achieve the highest chair
But it’s like I've got bad teeth
Or need to do something with my hair
I look at my reflection in the glass
And tears swarm to my eyes
I run to the safety of my bedroom
Where no one can hear me cry
Now my eyes
Red with tears
Look nothing like the me I knew
The me I used to be
I am not the same person I was before
As I ran around in the yard
'Cause life’s gone flip-flopped on me
And now it’s just really hard
So I ask you again:
Am I Pretty?
Am I the girl I used to be?
Or am I wearing a hideous mask?
Am I a person that isn’t me?

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