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.