At first I didn´t realize your hair was dyed
I hadn´t noticed your long legs, your longer heels,
and your poor taste in choosing the tightest jeans.
So many were called and so few were chosen,
the pattern was “tall rich empty headed, a good trophy”
no doubt a winner in the rat race.
The clinking clanking of high heels
in high school corridors
filled so much empty space
so many heads to turn
so many victories ahead
and then why feel you are nothing
unless your credit card depletes
where is the dream? what is the need?
dumbells raised in the sweatiest gyms
what ever happened to the ugly duck
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem