Not Pretty

Little girl, why don’t you look like her?

Why don’t you have porcelain for skin?

Why do your feet drag in your pretty shoes?

Why can’t you at least try to make mother proud?

Why do you smile the way you do?

So crooked, so ugly.

No one wants to see you.

Why aren’t you thin?

Why do you slouch?

You know pretty girls don’t do that.

Your chin is too wide, your face too broad.

You’re far from anything a mother could love.

You don’t light up the room, you don’t walk on the stars.

Your laugh isn’t the chiming of bells and your eyes don’t twinkle in the midst of the sun.

You’re nothing to see and nothing to hear.

You might as well not be here.

Little girl, get out of my sight.

I wanted you pretty and something of delight.

But you’re horrid and fat and not at all like her.

You’re not what I wanted.

Make them take you back.