I look into the mirror.
What have I done?
Swayed by subtle persuasions
Of my founding fathers;
I've allowed them to shape me
Into some distorted replica
Of everyone else.
I am an American girl.
A mirror image
Of the ideal human being
Blankly returns my gaze.
I am an American girl.
I am growing her long hair,
I am painting her face,
I am grinning her shiny-peach-juice smile.
"Lovely, lovely, lovely," I whisper.
I am an American girl.
Nothing but a confined chameleon,
Resting on a tree branch constructed of
Magazines,
9-o-clock television,
And reality shows.
I know reality,
Or at least I used to.
I am an American girl
Longing to wake
From the American dream.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
I look into the mirror.
What have I done?
Swayed by subtle persuasions
Of my founding fathers;
I've allowed them to shape me
Into some distorted replica
Of everyone else.
I am an American girl.
A mirror image
Of the ideal human being
Blankly returns my gaze.
I am an American girl.
I am growing her long hair,
I am painting her face,
I am grinning her shiny-peach-juice smile.
"Lovely, lovely, lovely," I whisper.
I am an American girl.
Nothing but a confined chameleon,
Resting on a tree branch constructed of
Magazines,
9-o-clock television,
And reality shows.
I know reality,
Or at least I used to.
I am an American girl
Longing to wake
From the American dream.
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