There's a little girl I know
who always reminds me of you.
She was perfect, now imperfect;
she lost her way too.

Pink nail polish and
red lipstick; she's
clutching a coffee
that isn't sweet enough.

She's a little girl in high heels,
playing at being a grown-up.

Subtle brown rimmed eyes
and a bambi blush;
a sad imitation of
a girlhood flush.

She's a little girl in make-up,
playing at being beautiful.

Dirty heeled shoes and
tights with a hole;
she's a debonair little actress,
cast in the wrong role.

She's a little girl with fantasies
of being more than she really is.

A half-started book
in a too-big handbag;
it's too empty, much like
the world she dreams in.

She's a little girl inside,
playing at being big;
but all the while she's simply looking
for the perfect place to hide.

Like you.
Like me.
Like everybody.