She clicks along behind,
the other perfect girls,
her long pale dress behind her,
and her lush auburn curls,
fall down to her waist,
and her neck adorn with pearls.

Her hands are gloved with silk,
and her eyes lined with black,
a glossy smile on rosey cheeks,
that she wishes to draw back,
the truth lying just beneath,
a shell about to crack

She must follow behind anyways,
her will chained and bound,
to their idea of perfection,
that she has not yet found,
amongst flawless girls,
their heads already crowned.

Her silk hands folded perfectly,
the secret woven with ink,
between veins and around wrists,
the reason she won't sink,
her cage opened and chains broken,
for that’s all she can think.