Walking in there is like hell,
It returns the dull color of my skin, and the tan glimmer of theirs.
Lips and Eyes screaming to please, nothing stirred within me except how pefect she looks.
No im-print available, she can't feel it.
Her lips can't touch,
Her eyes can't see,
Her heart can't love, So all love her.
She's fond of One-Night-Stands, especially one that takes place in the pity of the girls with the thick eye-liner and whale blubber stained lips, Posing to aim for that revolver in the corner.
The beads around her neck choking so damn close,
The touch of the skin saying "Love me, Love me, Touch, Touch"

Yet, as I touched.
Nor did I feel.
It was clear, that this Barbie was for real.
The glance of her eyes stopping me dead,
Heart inside no longer to spread.
Finishing my good-bye with one single tear,
Ripping out on what was near,
I am not Beautiful.