It’s alright, catch your breath.
You’ve run so far, she can’t see your pain;
Your little friend- the prettier one
with scar-less skin
and a face that peaked too soon to kill
a human heart.
Babe, have you ever heard of the tale
of a little, ugly duckling that lived by a lake?
I’ve seen it living, breathing by a convent wall,
at a dancing class, a high school fair, and at last
growing between two little girls in the seaside South.
You know babe,
legends are made from truth,
flesh and clay.
How do you think
I know your story
Don’t worry little duck, you’ll do fine,
because pain teaches delicate things.
But, her…she’ll die a slow death in her heart.
In warped time and place
I’ve seen her married to an idea’s face and boredom,
because she never knew beauty’s labour.