Prototype

She stands on the runway; wearing barely nothing at all,
There's awes from the audience; boys and their cat calls,
And bones are sticking out from her figure; she's so thin,
Her eyes are blood shot red and her breath smells like gin.

Blond hair and eyes of green; a super model for the young,
But all her petty little words are slurring off of her tongue,
She stumbles in her black stilettos; looking like a fool,
And the image that the media makes of her can be so cruel.

Her face is pinned inside fashion magazines; on walls,
The image of her - inside your mind, Hollywood installs,
And she's the new prototype for all the twelve year old's,
As they sit at home wishing on the stars to be a centerfold.

Her walk of fame is almost over; she'll pass out backstage,
Selling her pin thin frame for hundreds over minimum wage,
So she stands on the runway; wearing barely nothing at all,
But it looks to me like Ms. Richie has finally taken the fall.

-Jenna Elphick
June 14, 2007

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A side note: I love Nicole Richie, I just think she's gone a bit too far.