The Girl.

She's walking home alone
While we're posing on our cars
She passes us by
Her skirt is five times the length of ours
We smooth down our shirts
And balance on our heels
Tucking our purses in our arms
And readying our glares
'Ugly' 'Fat' 'Whore'
Our vocabulary is thin
But we know worse
We're saving for the end
And finally she's right there
Tears struggling not to escape
We sneer at her plain blouse
She's wishing she'd gone home late
I go in for the kill
Stepping slowly in her way
I stare down her grey eyes
Preparing something hideous to say
But another girl comes forth
And she pushes this one to the ground
And I do something astonishing
Her wet eyes go wide and round
She reaches for the hand
That I have held away from me
I grab hers, and help
The girl I used to be