Doll of the industry

You are like a flower that is withering after its petals have been iced over in winter frost,

Its beauty still lingers though it is nearly lost,

The industry has written you off in a flash,

Like countless ones before you, you are thrown into the trash,

You are one of a million bleached blonde clones,

One of a million mannequins the industry owns,

Now they don't want you any more,

What on earth are you living for?

Trash-heap doll of the modelling career,

Is losing your looks all you have to fear?

You are a human, living Barbie-girl,

Becoming a cheap glass gem instead of a pearl,

Would you rather die stereotypically pretty?

Than live on as less-than in this cruel city?

I know you spend hours staring at a blade,

Suicidal young industry's maid,

You thought that you were 'prettier' than the rest,

If your life is glamour then the less-than are blessed.

The End

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