Pristine

When you see her in the halls
You have to take a second glance
She’s tall, thin, and not a single misstep
Hair pulled tight in a slick ponytail
Shirt tucked tight every day without fail
Knee-length skirt 
Every pleat is perfect
Socks just above the ankles
With flats to go with it

But inside 
It’s not the same
Her brain's a mess
All scattered and frayed
She feels that if she looks the part
Her brain will do the same

Pristine, they call her
For you never see less than a 100 on any grade
You never see 
The facade slip
The perfect image she concocted 
That's all that most people know
And that’s how she likes it

Everything must be perfect 
Not a thing out of place
That's what she tells herself
At the start of each day
She may spend hours
Making sure to please everyone else
She never stops to think
What about herself