The Same Old Girl She Always Was

Everybody loves her,

They stare at her,

Gawk even.

She’s used to the whispers when she walks by now.

She’s so pretty,

She always looks perfect.

Her clothes are alway pressed perfectly,


She carries herself with such poise.

Her smile never faulters, bright white teeth

Shining through her pink  lips, ever so perched.

Behind closed doors when the makeups washed away and perfectly pressed clothes are hung up,

She fears she’s just the same old girl she always has been.


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