28 May 2012
Beauty queen of seventeen
Envy of the girls,
All the boys want to be
Centre of her world,
On her arm,
Or so it was
Before the storm's
Final pause.
Heartbreaker
Now broken on the floor
Not fit for consumption
Anymore.
Torn in two,
Mangled and smashed
Twisted, tangled
Confused mish-mash
Of emotions,
A tempest
That brews in her soul.
Selfless
Was she,
Charity prefect
Head-girl-to-be
Now a ghost, derelict
With a joint in her fingers
The smoke as it rises,
Blue clouds of sorrow
That blur her demise.
She could have been someone
Before it all spiralled
And the perfect girl
Was crushed by her rivals,
Rumours, whispers
Fog all around
In the cutthroat world of popularity.
No longer a sound
As she lies near unconscious
On the bare wooden floor,
Beauty queen, head-girl-to-be
Seventeen no more.
Popular • Opuss № I