jade nicholson

magic mirror


These girls
are such pretty girls.
Their flawless skin is pulled taught around them and,
although artificially tanned,
there is no denying it lacks
bumps, blemishes, even pores.

Their eyes pop,
shielding true identities with near-purple contact lenses.
They are enamored with their friends.

These girls,
these beautifully ugly girls,
expel laughter from their mouths.
The laughter rings so magnificently,
so pure,
like the tinkling of a fairy bell.

These girls,
with popularity stamped across their foreheads,
the word itself sharp-edged and twinkling,
glide through the hallways.
When they trip or fall, they are not embarrassed.
Their cheeks do not ripen like apples in autumn.
They do not hurt, even bleed.

I’m surprised they do not crack,
exposing the faultless machinery within.

I’m surprised they do not fall to pieces,
meekly becoming shards and
glittering remnants of false perfection.


Jade Nicholson is seventeen years old and keeps myriad poetry books in the back seat of her car, taking advantage of any spare moment to become wrapped in a different one. She has previously been published in OPUS, The Ram, and Inspired. As a senior in high school, she looks forward to furthering her education in creative writing.