You stand on your gold-plated pedestal
Your cool
Cool
Smile
Pierces my chest
Making me empty.
I can see my reflection.
A golden sheet,
Placed delicately
Shielding it.
I’ve never seen my real colors.
But they tell me to be their golden girl.
You laugh
A thousand bells tinkling.
I can’t match that.
My cackle reflects
But comes back like sour honey.
Your hair falls loosely around your shoulders
It frames your face.
My feet are callused
My toenails
A jagged edge that rubs against my socks.
I see your toes.
Little pearls with a coat of delicate pink polish.
They’re soft,
Like they haven’t been used.
You laugh again
But it’s different.
The bells are naïve
They don’t know why they’re chiming.
I have pride in my screech.
You don’t like it.
You stomp your foot
And the pedestal comes crashing down
Because I won't let you control me.
