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Picture Perfect
I smile as I walk by the blurs of students
The lockers, crammed onto one side of the wall
I look up at the other girls
Showing off their beauty, standing tall
I wish I could be like them.
As I’m studying the pictures
Of women, with angel-like forms
I tell myself I’m beautiful the way I am
But I’ve got to be perfect,
I’ve got to go through those storms
If only I could be like them.
My mother tells me I’m perfect
She tells me the thing that matters least is my size
Every day, she tells me I’m perfect
But the mirror says otherwise
Why can’t I be like them?
I’ve got to face reality because I can’t run and run
Over my small amount of experiences and years
I’ve learned that not every puzzle piece is the right one
I might not be perfect in your eyes,
But I am perfect in mine.
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