She watches the girl with perfect hair,
wishing hers looked just as fair.
The other glances, quick and shy’s,
thinking she has the prettier eyes.
One admires the way she stands,
graceful steps and steady hands.
The other sighs, a little low,
wishing she had that kind of glow.
Each one longs for what they lack,
not knowing the other wants it back.
Whispers of Struggle 
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