What is beautiful?
How does someone attain it?
And if they do, will the feeling of beautiful erase all that's troublesome, the rejection, the misconception of other's pretend affection?
Why do I put on this makeup right here?
Flaws by the dozen, I think I'd rather look like my boy cousins.
At least they have a better shot at love, caring, the consistency of another.
Me, you see, I'm just this girl.
Hiding behind a stereotypical mask, I cannot feel pain, my freshly painted, mask may run.
I want to run from this advertisment.
I feel like every other girl, waiting, hoping, for her temporary time to fly.
Soar through the gallows of timed contentment.
He's found something fresher, innocent, and pure.
You've been used.
What did you expect really?
You asked for it, begged for it.
He loved you in the typical adolescent way, it was time to play, and you did.
Play time is over, now it's waiting again.
You'll find someone pretty, just like what you try to be.
His face will melt, you'll unravel his shiny, wrapping, and discover what you always discover.
Pig, Cheat, Leech,
Sucking you dry, just to leave you burning in the hot, summer, heat.
You bleat out weakly, "Why?"
This wasn't suppose to happen, he said you were , he took you dining, hands intertwining.
Love stricken were you, just to get slapped in the heart.
What a tart, you really believed this one cared?
Just like the last, it'll pass.
Give it time, you'll find yourself in another bind before you know it.
Don't blow it.
This one could love it.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.