She doesn’t talk a lot,
Always busy pretending to be someone,
That she is not.
It starts first thing in the morning,
Around 6:35 a.m.,
As she thinks about the popular girls,
And wishes she was them.
She dresses in clothes that pinch and pull,
Because that is what everyone else is wearing,
And smiles as brightly as she can,
Wondering how the popular girls are faring.
She decorates her backpack,
With neon beads and charms,
Because why should she lack,
What the popular girls have?
She doesn’t like having make-up,
Covering her freckles and cheeks,
But she hopes that maybe,
She will stop noticing after a few weeks.
Her shoes pinch her toes,
And squeeze the sides of her feet,
But nobody knows.
Her smile is perfection,
After hours spent practicing it in he mirror,
Because why should she be a nobody,
When she could have people want to be her?
Her day of acting ends,
At 11:12 p.m,
And by golly I hope it’s worth it,
All the fakery she is for him.