Plastic Angel

She's got black mascara,
Cover-up to cover all,
Skimpy clothes,
But she looks like a fool.

Smile so large,
Then again so fake,
In popularity's name,
She's always late.

Doesn't eat for days,
To keep that face pretty,
Really I think,
That that's just silly.

Flirts with the boys,
And talks with the girls,
So cool, so perfect,
An addict to the attention,
A slave to the ideal.

What do you do,
When the tears start to run,
And your makeup runs with it,
A tissue for the little plastic angel.

She composes herself,
And flies on.