Athletes Don't Write Poetry, and Pretty Girls Don't Lie

I wake up everyday at the same time

Mascara crusted over on the same two eyes

Yank the same jeans over the same two legs

Pull the same sweater over the same empty head


Drive to school facing forward; I never look back

Walk the same hallways with the same tired act

Greet my friends with a flash of those same pearly whites

Still delicate from the strips I wear every night


I make perfect marks and I have perfect hair

I play perfect sports so that perfect people care

I join perfect clubs; I'm thin, white, and tall

But it doesn't feel perfect, not perfect at all.


I never miss class and I make the same grades

Pointy-capped As on my report card in spades

I say the same things, day in and day out

Weather, boys, vacations--that's not what I'm about


I swipe my dad's card at the same chain boutiques

Every one of us there is the same, none unique

We wear the same black dresses and talk the same old s***

In the same five-inch heels with the same scarlet lips


We take perfect pictures with our perfect, teased hair

We post them on Twitter so perfect people care

Our skin appears flawless, you can't see one zit

But none of it's perfect, not perfect one bit.


I cry the same tears in my house all alone

Muffle them with punk music in my room on my own

I'm rejected, left out, their excuses so bland

But I swallow the same pride and I shake the same hands


I have the same doubts and write them in the same pen

I know I've disappointed my parents once again

Friends talk about me in a manner all the same

But I won't speak up; that's how I play the game


I tell perfect lies and let down my perfect hair

Perfect people don't know and the others don't care

I dry perfect eyes: in my tears I won't drown

I just take Perfect pills

And I swallow them down.

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Oh my god. I love this so much


Thank you! I'm glad you like it. The rough part is that while sometimes I write poetry from the perspectives of others, this one is about me. I submitted it to the scholarship competition. Back in third grade, my best friend told me she couldn't be around me anymore because I was "too perfect" and I made her feel bad. I think sometimes we forget that there's no such thing as perfect, and it's all just a façade. 


Have you written poems on here?

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