Sad little girl,
in front at a mirror,
hoping if she stares long enough
she'll get prettier
(but she never does)
Many mistake her obsession with
pride
arrogance
vain
vanity
vainglory
When it derives from a bearing far more wounding
YOU ARE READING
baby blue
Poetryupon my death, may you sprinkle my ashes on your pillow, so you can feel me in your lungs and breathe for me as I once did for you. . a collection of poems.
