Miss Picture Perfect

by Stephen Watson

There she stands, in her dark field of envy

Crushing flowers which scream: ‘Please let us be’

As they face their awful destiny.

Her face of stone, so cold, so vain;

Never welcomes the sun, only the rain.

A visage of jealousy, and now, bitter relief;

These rivals to her beauty have come to grief.

An angel by day, and Medusa by night

She slays all those that dare challenge;

Her world of picture perfect sight.

Views: 1525 Comments: 0