Real

She use to strive for perfection,

In her clothes,

Her hair,

Her grades,

And the way she acted,

Until she wasn’t her anymore.

She had the same eyes,

But they where darker,

More knowing in a sad way.

She had the same dimple,

But it was almost covered in make-up,

And she didn’t smile enough for it to show.

She had the same freckle on her right ear,

But the fancy gold earrings all but covered it.

No-one ever once told her,

That she was born to be real,

Not perfect.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s