Her skin is charred with hot mascara tears.
High heels rub blisters deep into her skin.
Sips sear her throat, her swollen, cotton fears,
But this is what it takes to be let in.
She wonders what they’ll think of her new dress.
The make-up that she stole to make her cool.
He’ll see her shrunken waist and be impressed.
The pretty girls hold fire in high school.
They tell her that the danger makes it fun.
She’ll risk the flames if they will set her free.
But she just has herself when day is done.
So is this how she wanted things to be?
She wipes away her tears and then decides
They cannot tell her who to be inside.