Everybody loves her,
They stare at her,
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.