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Random Poem

She's unhappy,
Standing there in the mirror with a frown on her face,
Hands on her waist,
She stares at herself.
Thinking..."why can't I be pretty? I need to be skinny, I should lose weight, is it to late?"
The pressure society puts on her make her queasy, un easy, feeling the need to be....
Someone she's not.
"I'm perfect the way I am" ..
..she says that a lot.
But does she mean it?
Does she believe it?

And to those who read my stories
I promise i will update tomarrow