Wow.

I wrote this on September 24, 2001.  I haven't written anything in ages.  I miss it so much, but I don't think my writings would make any sense lately.  There was a time when I wanted to be an author, then I settled with ghostwriting...then I took it down a notch more, and decided on proof reading.  And now I don't know where the aspirations went.  I'm aspiration-less.  But at least I still have a sense of humor.

(UNTITLED)


By: Elaine Diaz



I look at you,

You, with your fake red smile and your porcelain skin,

Your perfect manicure, and matching toenails,

Any beauty contest, you're sure to win.



Seven-inch shoes to go along with your seven inch nails,

Your almost fake accent, you were looking for the saleswoman,

The one who can only feed her 5 kids, depending on her sales,

"I'm sorry ma'am, 6 is the smallest we carry them"



So you walked away, disappointed as ever,

You called your mom from your cell phone,

And complained about how you were never going back to that store, NEVER



Sure, yours are pretty,

But at least mine are real,

Crooked and uneven,

No acrylic,

No weekly refill,

Chipping electric blue paint,

Icky scratching sound on the chalk board,

Should I scratch harder, is the sound too faint?