The Matchstick Girl
A head full of hair
Walking on a weak foundation
The chic new style fills the aisles
And sweeps entire generations
But we live in a time where all women pine
For the look of a matchstick girl!
Strange as I see them
My smile froze on my lips
I felt sorry for limbs looking like sticks
For society they burnt themselves down
Contemplating life, my mind raced
I could never be a matchstick
The box would never take me
Nor did I ever want to fit!
I stood up, no one noticed me
I did not burn and no one cared
Out I walked into the open
I turned back to take a look
The glass bore a fired reflection
The price to burn inside their skin
Deep down I knew all matches
Fade away to almost nothing
I knew this was never my calling
To be that fire that burns up a stick!
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