She’s feelin blue,
Thinking of death and hate and her and you.
She buys green contacts,
Throws away her scales, mirror and Ex- Lax.
She sees ugliness,
So she looks in the mirror less and less.
She looks at Pretty Polly,
Who has a striking face and protruding bones.
Polly smiles,
Lighting a cigarette, reaching the telephone dial.
Glenda sighs,
Is it better to have sad blue or jealous green eyes?
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