The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Oswego chapter.
Mascara leaking out her eyes
Like gothic party streamers.
Powdered eye shadow
Spread a mess like ashes
Across her war worn skin.
Her lipstick wrinkles
Like crepes, crumbling
Under oath.
She swore to herself
That she would hold
Onto hope.
That left a clumpy rosy residue.
She has a clay face,
You can mold it
Anyway,
You can even sculpt
A bright smile
With cute little dimples.
Growing up isn’t simple.
Broken brittle nails
That snap like clattering
Poker chips.
You can make her up
Of marble, stone,
Anything at your
Disposal.
Because a woman
Like her is disposable.
Get your makeup kit
And make up to the world
Get your makeup kit
Pat the colors, blend the swirl
Straighten up your posture
You’re lost, girl.