Got That Glitter On My Eyes.

she was hot and dangerous.
she was on the edge of glory.
she was who she was.
she was a superstar.
she was breaking beds and boundaries.
she was everything that's right.

she was everything that pop music had taught me.

the center of attention,
standing in her hot-girl disguise,
ruling the world.

as she walked through the halls,
all I would ever hear would be the oh too familiar
fapfapfapfapfapfapfap.
the nerdy jocks with bright blue eyes trained on her lower body.
and she refused to respond.
'don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch, just smoke one cigarette and hush'

at parties they would scream.
'let's play a love game'
'kiss me. k-k-kiss me.'
'if I had it my way, you know that I'd make her say..'
she would laugh and ignore.
and the next night I would watch her sob from my window.

so often I would glance out of my window into her house.
watch her peel off that hot-girl disguise bit by bit.
'take it off, take it off, everybody take it off'
eye her keenly, with glorious teenage judgment.
make up washed away, tissues removed, contacts disposed, retainer recovered.

a hot girl disguise, indeed.

and what reason for this hot-girl disguise if not to please her suitors?
if not to draw every present eye?
'she won't ever get enough, once she gets a little touch'

our world is blinded by beauty.
blinded by the bright stage lights.
blinded by the male ke$ha ejaculating in our eyes.
blinded by the brilliant shine on a spandex suit.
blinded by the alcohol poisoning.

because we fail to realize,
that although she is pretty,
although she is talented,
although the eye of the world is trained on her,
she isn't real.

but who needs reality when you have everything else?