she runs her house
with a slight of hand
laying out the rules
without making a demand
precise as a clock
beneath a perfect exterior
claims love as her intent
yet makes you feel inferior
she asks to be treated normal
as she pushes you away
how can she be perfect
if your close enough to see
none of the girls stand up to her
when she lays down a decree
who would dare to object to
the girl they all want to be
I see her for what she is
I see beneath her skin
I wish she was the girl on top
the girl who was my friend.
S. Elizebeth Turnquist
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