The hours with out the internet are the hardest. When she can't tap away to her,
Those hours are the hardest of all. Her real friends are worried, her hair not up to the beauty queen standard. Her stockings slouching down. Her eyes rimmed with dark mournful bags, of tiredness.
The bell goes she runs, out and through the halls. Only time she puts effort into anything is this time and when thinking.
What to say to her 'friend'.
Walking home. The long way.
So she can tap away to her new,
Who is really a pixel picture, made up of the colour spectrum. On here screen replying.
To her little smiley face in the picture.
The one she posed for again and again.
To find the right angle, smile.
To find a new,
She comes up to her door. The make-up smudged away from the day.
She doesn't care. Walking in, past her parent to do her
When we all know really she's talking to her
Who she knows oh so well. She's sitting on her bed, hair all around. Silent tears running down her face from what they say at school.
But that doesn't matter now. She know's her,
Will look after her.
She hopes this
Will look after her