Stringy brown hair.

A squeaky voice.

Touching thighs.

Too-full lips.

Too-close eyes.

Bony knees and elbows,

Oh my, oh my.

You cry about your glasses

And the contacts you can't seems to figure out

You hate your lacking chest

And the B-cup you can't fill out.

You detest the freckles on your cheeks

For marring porcelain skin.

You crave acceptance from your friends,

But you do not think you deserve it.

To those of you to whom this applies:

I hated the way my best friend cried.

I hated that no matter what I said,

She was ready to deny.

I hated that she hated everythinng about herself.

She deems herself imperfect,

But that is why she is so beautiful to me.

She can stay up to all hours of the night

And talk about anything.

Her nose is not crooked,

And she is as healthy as can be,

But she is obsessesed with the girl in the mirror,

And how she wants to be like some girl on TV.

She is the most gentle soul,

Until it comes to herself.

Then she is a monster, 

Waiting to strike at a moment's notice.

She fights with me constantly now,

Screaming about how, "I wouldn't understand!"

She's right, I guess.

I don't.

I don't understand how she hates how perfect her hair is.

I don't understand how she hates her soft voice.

I don't understand how she thinks her thighs touching is sinful.

I don't understand why she hates the lips that suit her face to perfection,

And when she takes pictures her eyes glow a deep emerald.

Her knees are not bony, nor are her elbows.

Her glasses add an air of intelligence to her already sharp eyes,

and those contacts are a menace anyways.

I don't understand why she is unhappy with her breasts, 

They help her wear tight, short, dresses.

Those freckles on her cheeks are like a soft spattering of cinnamon on her skin,

And, honestly, I wish to change nothing more than for her to see this.

She is perfect, with all of her "flaws" adding to her beauty.

She is lonely in a roomful of people vying for her smile, or laugh.

She is a beacon of innocent light to a group of people who would do anything for her.

But she has stopped her own laughs.

She never smiles.

She always looks down.

Her confidence is non-existant,

And my best friend is nowhere to be found.