Greta grew up in a headless cold world,
The love is present, only through the unseeable veils.
She’s told she would fail,
And to be doomed and out of tune to lose with no avail.
School was tough, bullied in smut,
Just one friend,
With one bench,
But cannot quash the evil guts.
Teased and water’s like mountain on cheeks,
“I’m not like everybody else.”
Slim and petite.
No warm arms on cold nights, and no love for a cub,
Stacey’s there, often begrudge.
Greta’s confused, “Why like me, I’m ugly and podgy.”
But the comfort of joy is one to enjoy.
Sixty beats a minute,
Taken through a thousand stinging nettles.
But she will laugh the loudest, when the disgust declutters.
She grows and she blossoms,
The flowers bud and the dirt’s no longer rotten.
Beautiful, bootyfull, victorious of them all,
Confidence is all she needed, and now she’s leading.
Those pop eye buffaloes,
Bellucci walks and the thunder strikes,
Hips curvy mean a sunny delight.
She’s a brave maiden, although trembles of past,
Her hair grew dark, boldly and fierce.
And as time goes on, chesty and lark,
Eyes big and blue, radiant sky clear.
She’s a morning star,
Men spin around, pave the way with gold in her crown.
The owls are out, pink is the colour that’s hidden in mouth,
But the droopy jaws are getting ignored.
The journey of size and the ending of lives,
Time waits for none when the years are polite.
A reflection of the spectrum, and quick flick refractions,
Means it’s brighter, on the other side of the section.
Judgement is all, when time escapes with a catastrophic befall.
So don’t be quick for words can make you sick,
The tables can turn and the needle can prick.
Written by: Justin J. White
Photographer: Kaapone Fotografia
Model: Lyz Lupo