Unpretty

The pretty girls
With their thick, perfect hair
And closets full of clothes
Armani and Prada
Are the only things that touch their skin.

They point and laugh
On the way to their BMW's,
In designer outfits
That their rich daddies bought them
Just because.

I sit here, alone.
My greasy, frizzy hair hangs knotted down my back
An outfit that was popular twenty years ago
Hand me downs and thrift store finds
Are the only things we can afford.

I stare into their faces, coated with too much makeup
As the dirty van, clunky and broken, pulls into the parking lot.
We'll be lucky if we make it wherever it is that we're going.
My mother, brothers and sisters sit waiting
To go dumpster diving for unknown treasures.

What I would give to be beautiful, like them.
But the dirty clothes and the broken van
The hard life, it's made me what I am.
What I'll always be
Unpretty.