HAPPY SUPER-LATE 12TH BIRTHDAY BANDIT :)

(Hello Poetry wouldn't let me on)

Rip.

Have you heard the news that you're dead?

One minute, I was flying free through the air.

The next, I came crashing down into cold, unforgiving concrete.

As I lay dying, I tried to move my now useless appendages, but all that came out was a pathetic twitching. Panic and pain was my world. In the distance, the mountains I watched began to turn, turn in the snow.

I could feel my heart race as this thing, this titan turned around and stared down at me through its immensely black hood. I could feel its gaze meet mine somehow, through that emptiness, as it leaned in towards me.

Suddenly, the prospect of dying didn't seem so bad.

A familiar sense of longing and comfortability began to wash over me as my mind faded to nothing...

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As I watched the bird die, its little wings flapping, I felt tears stream down my face.

"Oh no, oh just sleep little one, I'm so sorry, so sorry..."

What was I apologizing for? I didn't do this.

And it occurred to me how much I must have looked like death to this little creature, with my large hood blackening my face and my large, slender-fingered hand coming towards it, ready to embrace it and pull it towards its ultimate end, and I thought about how it may have seen the countless stars reflected in that great endless pool, somewhat like eyes...

Straight Boys: Why are all the hot girls lesbian?
Lesbians: Why are all the hot girls straight?
Straight Girls: Why are all the hot guys gay?
Gay Guys: Why are all the hot guys straight?
Bisexuals: WHY ARE ALL THE HOT PEOPLE TAKEN?
Pansexuals: Everyone is hot. What do i do?
Asexuals: What.

I walk the halls,
Watching her flowing hair,
Golden in the perfect lighting,
Her hips moving from side to side,
Like Newton's cradle,
Left,
Right,
Left,
Right.

I envy her perfectly highlighted face,
And her winged liner,
That's as sharp as her heels,
Clicking along the wooden boards,
Hypnotizing everyone and anyone,
Including me.

Me,
The girl that walks alone,
To and from class,
The girl that wears tattered jeans,
And stained shirts,
The girl that drops her books,
And gets bullied on countless occasions,
The girl that wishes that she was just like her,
Just like this girl that walks the halls.

Why am I not good enough?
And I'm not talking about others' opinions,
I'm talking about my own,
My self-image,
My self-worth,
My self-confidence,
Why am I not good enough?

Little do I know,
As I walk the halls,
That this girl,
This perfect image of a woman,
Doesn't want to be that way anymore,
While I would **** for that,
She would simply throw it away,
If it were that easy.

The popularity,
The attention,
The friends,
She'd be rid of it in a heartbeat,
If it were up to her.

But I still believe that I'm not good enough,
That I need a face of makeup,
Heels that are too tall to balance on,
An outfit to make me comfortable with my body,
Just to make me feel like I'm worth something,
Like I really am good enough.

So, I watch this girl,
And I envy her,
And she envies me,
As we walk the halls.