She's Very Nearly

She's a very nearly person.
Her eyes are almost black.
Her hair is pretty much dark brown
Hangs halfway down her back.
She's almost like the other girls
But doesn't look quite right,
She acts a bit like one of them
Without the added bite.
She's nearly witty when she talks
But her punchline makes no sense,
She could be graceful when she walks
If she didn't feel as tense.
She's spent too much time acting like the spark she longs to be,
Carving, painting, starving to see who she wants to see
In the gilt-edged almost mirror hanging from the bedroom wall.
She's very nearly lost herself- and doesn't care at all.

She's a very nearly person.
In the night she lies and dreams
In a world that's sort of kind of hers
Where things are what they seem.
She doesn't fit a genre
And contorts herself in trying,
When everyone around her sees
The old, real her is dying.
She needs someone to remind her of
The simple joys of youth,
To make her smile for just a while
And help her find the truth-
She's beautiful just as she is. I love each 'imperfection'-
She is her, and no-one else, and can be friends with her reflection.