Pretty Girls by Lauren Hern

In centuries old,

And countless untold,

I stood on lofty way,

Gazing at the pretty girls,


Their hair stiff with lacquer,

And lips ripe with gloss, 

One day, I wanted to be like the pretty girls,

And that day came.


Skirts just below the knee,

Fishnets riding high,

Corsets tightened,

And Doc Martens slowly breaking in,


So I’m not like those pretty girls,

Whose hair was like straw,

But I am my own self,

And surely thats something more.

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