The Technicolor Illusion
Through her eyes, and only ten,
She tries to comprehend,
the facts and the fabrication.
In world of opposites,
with elders who try to correct,
But she along with her friends reject, the information.
“They” don’t understand her dialects.
Where mathematics is outside in the corner,
Those who seek otherwise are loners,
She chooses fantasy, but not in dolls and tales,
But in magazines, music and press on nails.
“What do I want to be when I grow up?
A money maker, a soul shaker,
An eye pleaser and flesh teaser.
Poor little lost lass,
looking at the world through Technicolor glass,
Along with her there are a mass,
Of little girls with the same illusion.
