Rosy Strain of Grass

Under her Maybelline brand eyeliner

And her cute tops and pastel colored skirts,

I can see the imperfections on her

A rose to a strain of grass she converts

 

Her pictures don’t show her not-so-straight teeth

Or the zits and small hairs upon her face

She is scared to show what’s underneath

Her clothes; Those flaws she wishes to efface

 

Around adults, she hides her “shits” and “fucks”

But whilst with her friends she tends to let loose

Her peers still don’t know her when not amuck

When she’s alone, she acts like a recluse

 

I see this rose how others do not see

Because this rose is actually me

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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