Ana Poem by Rita Shay

I stare at the picture of her gleaming beautiful face, my eyes quivering with nothing but hate.
She is a beautiful girl, not in the too much makeup way many girls are, but this delicate, subtly spectacular sort of a way.
And the pictures of her are what I want my photos too look like.
My photos aren't pretty.
My face always looks chubbier and my hair always messier than they seem to appear in the reflection of the mirror.
But there she is in all the beauty that I want.
And he looks at her like she is spectacular.
And he talks to her like he used to talk to me.
And she hasn't screwed things up the way I have and she has won him now.
With her beautiful artsy photo's she stares with large blue eyes,
With no idea that I feel hate mounting in my own chocolate eyes.
And when she speaks, her voice slurs out, fully mixed with self confidence that I would love to say is cockiness but very deep down I am not sure.
And he loves others more than me, but the beautiful stupid ones do not bother me, nor do the ugly intelligent ones.
But she,
She is the one whom I hate
And the funniest part is that I hold this secret hate,
It's scrunched and held tight, and she nor he has any clue.