You copy a face,
Envy someone's embrace,
Why must you always pretend?
They ask,
Who are you?
What do you do?
You answer,
My name is Sara,
Your lashes caked in mascara,
You want to be a perfect girl,
In a perfect world,
My name is Kasondra,
As graceful as a black mamba,
You crave the envy,
Now your heart is empty,
My name is Josephine,
Makes everything seem spotless,
Like Mr. Clean,
They catch on quick,
Can see right through it,
They laugh in your face,
That face isn't even yours,
And that hair?
As common as the mop that wipes my floor,
Don't you understand?
You whisper desperately,
Can't you see?
I'm as perfect as anyone could be,
She died the next hour,
Her soul a white powder,
Roaming the earth helplessly,
Like a mass of thick flour,
No one will remember you,
Won't even care,
Running through the plains,
Like a lonely mare,
People will only hear,
A story passed down,
About the girl they never knew.