Jillian put on the pink, lace dress
that softly caressed her body,
hugging her waist, her hips, her chest.
The wind blew against her bare legs.
She felt naked without her pants.

Perhaps a beauty fail,
she threw her hair
into a ponytail.
A little foundation, a little blush
will make the boys fall into lust.

Eyeliner and mascara
will make her look fairer,
except she looked like a terror
instead, or so she thought.

Dressed in a gown,
she felt like a clown.
Staring in the mirror,
faking a kiss,
she had no idea
how made-up girls
felt confident.

Walking awkwardly
in platform shoes,
strutting like a man,
she had to finesse
her steps, cuz after all,
she was a lady in a dress.

She threw a punch in the mirror
and laughed at how silly she looked.
She may be a pink rose,
but she definitely had thorns.

Today she had to fit in
as she la de da’ed
to the gardens
with the other girls.

Read more memory poems here.