She was a girl, young and free
Playing in a field of her own daisies
Her mind, clear as the blue skies around her
Her face, untouched, one of nature’s beauty
Her hair, her curls swaying in the wind
Her smile, lighting up the world
Her life as free as a bird
Until that bird was shot, shot by society.
Her mind is now clouded, clouded by the judgments of others
Her face touched by layers and layers of fake
Her hair stands still, straight as a stick
Her smile, now forced, does not hide her insecure self
She is now just another copy.