Melancoly

Wilted

A girl had once asked me what it felt like
to be beautiful
A nice question capable of shattering
a porcelain face like mine
I wanted to escape the world
and escape her words
But all I can do is be pretty
So all I could say was nothing
But the beautiful girl, apart from who I am
is a girl never seen for what she had
In her but what comprised of her
Always idolized for her façade
And never quite loved for what she was
Her smile illuminated rooms
And sparked flames of jealousy
In not so beautiful girls
She is widely hated by many
Yet expected to have high esteem
for her heels make her tall and pin curls except of flaws
She's expected to shine bright like those gorgeous eyes and luminous skin
Though really she isn't alive
Because she's only just skin
But it's okay, the crowd tells her she's beautiful
Told so much that she believes them
But the beautiful girl still looks in the mirror
And asks her perfect reflection
What it truly feels like
To be beautiful