The Age Old Story Of Jealousy
She always sits straight, proud and tall
I sit slumped, invisible and small.
She is thin, a winding stair rail
I’m simply not; I seem as big as a whale.
Her hair is perfect- following every trend
My hair blonde and frizzes at the end.
Her features are pretty, if not beautiful
Mine are boring, simplistic and dull.
She is just so nice, you can’t think wrong
I’m not the same, I just don’t belong.
She laughs all the time and jokes around