She spends hours in front of the mirror

Making sure every hair is in place

Checking her makeup again and again

Starring at a full closet and saying

"Well, I have nothing to wear!"

Her good is never good enough

Because her good isn't equivalent to you,

And after all

What is she,

If she is not you?

I grew up hearing that

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But words will never hurt me

And as I grow I come to know

That sticks and stones will break your bones

But words can do more

They break your heart and break your spirit

Until those words are all you hear

Repeating over and over in your head

A never ending reminder of your

Flaws and of your falures

It's repeated in your mind

So much that you accept it as truth.

Fat, ugly, worthless, stupid

All nothing you haven't heard before

Everyday becomes a losing battle

Between you and the opinions of the world

 Her friends are constantly denying these notions

But she can't bring herself to belive them

Because for too long she's believed the lies that world poured into her.

Anything else is a foreign thought because after

The constant insults she recieves

How could anything else be true?

Constantly fishting the urge to compare herself

To the girl in the hallway and the girl on TV

The girl with the perfect hair,

The perfect teeth,

The perfect boyfriend,

The girl who has everything she doesn't

And is everything she wants to be.

She's all that she aspires to be

Yet everything she's not.

We live in a world where a standard is set

And if you don't meet it then you are cast to the bottom.

You are mocked with an

Ever growing array of insults that are

So easy to throw at the girl with her head down.

So easy to laugh as she cries

Only to hide your own insecurities.

Kids are taught to love themselves and to love others

But as we grow that ideal fades away

And being kind is frowned upon

Because it doesn't fit societies idea of what is cool.

You are so consumed with impressing those around you

That you can't see the hurt of the world

That sits before your eyes,

That begs to be seen,

That begs to be heard,

That begs to be solved.

But the world can't see it because

The girl crying in the corner

Isn't their problem.

And so we come back to the girl standing in the mirror

Pulling at her clothes to hide her curves,

Smoothing out her hair only for its usual frizz to reappear seconds after,

Applying makeup to hide the acne on her forehead,

All this time she imagining the girl from the hallway next to her

Checking to see if she looks like her

Because after all,

What is she,

If she isn't you?