Number one, take a shower, you don’t want to smell.

Two, pick an outfit that will fit in with the latest trends, 

And won’t make you a laughing stock, more than you already are.

Three, put on makeup so you can actually show your face in public,

And be a little pretty.

You can’t even recognize yourself,

And your face tingles from so many layers of doubt,

Caked on like concealer.

If you can’t impress them,

Then you have ruined the hours of meticulous painting,

You applied to your hideous face. 

Four, don’t forget to style your hair in an elegant manner,

And pull it so tight that you can’t feel the intense pressure of the bell schedule,

Not even giving you enough time to sit down before it rings again.

Straighten all of the flowing curls,

You can’t let everyone see how your hair frizzes,

Like an electrocuted bear naturally,

And if it’s still crazy. 

You laugh, you laugh along with them,

Because they are going to laugh no matter what you do,

And you can’t ever let it get to you,

Because the moment you do.

You become less then them,

And of course we knew deep down that we really were,

But they can’t know that.

Five, show your feet into those toe pinching blood blistering,

Commerce that everyone at school is going crazy over.

You cannot be the odd one out.

As you gaze into the bathroom mirror.

You see a stranger who somehow stole your reflection,

And replaced it with a completely different girl.

Every part of her outfit she isn’t comfortable in, 

But even even though you spent hours trying to look pretty,

You will never be as good as those other girls in the hallway.

You are actually holding back a few tears,

But you feel like you holding a tsunami of emotion,

That somehow you have been able to swallow back for two years.

You can’t let anyone else know though,

Otherwise they will never respect you the same way they used to,

Or did they ever?

Why am I not good enough?

The truth,

I will never be enough for them,

And I learn to live in their world,

Not mine.

Six, when you get home at the end of the day.

You cry and write your emotions onto a piece of paper,

Made of the broken pieces of your heart.

And then wash away the layers of fake,

Fake name,

Fake face,

Fake friends.

No wonder they call you two faced,

Everyone is.

We all know it,

But we are never enough any ways,

So no wonder we aren't enough to hide it.