pearls and pretends

When I was younger,
my favorite bracelet was made of pearls.
I was a girl with sunshine hair
basked in light and swirls.

A perfect little face,
who told no lies,
my makeup was pristine,
placed so pointedly precise.

But, should it fade,
then all would be forced to see
that the polished little picture
had no semblance to me.

A promising prodigy
who was content to please,
straight A’s and straight hair,
as pure as can be.

A pretty blue dress
was what I wore,
but how soon that bracelet, so dainty
became my handcuffs of horror.

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