Why so Gawjous, idiot?

She thinks she a Mary Jane, 
but couldnt be farther from the truth.
In reality, shes the Mary Sue.

Flaunting her beauty in different ways,
Mirrors sideways and upwards and reflecting her face,
shes unique, though she thinks it not.

Her face free of blemishes, 
with scarcely a dot.

Caramel, 
not cream.

Liquid, 
sulfur,
not flat.

Hazy, ebony lashes,
not invisible blonde.

Sears you with a saddened gaze,
resist it you cannot.

Why look in other directions,
when you can look in one.

Why, Gawjous Idiot?

Dont fidget. 
You look fine.
Dont wait for that person to tell you:
"Your mine."

When they are busy looking,
in the far distance,
ignoring your glorious existence.

Tiny frame.
Set in caramel tones.
Will rise again.
No one can be your clone.
No one can stand in your bones.
Not even the unknown.

Will it take Shakespeare to rhyme to you?
His words arent so eloquent.
Not when hes chasing a long gone dream.

"She's beautiful",
they whisper.

Eyes brimmed with envy.

"You're not",
evil whispers.
In the recesses of your head.

Her dark eyes dont listen.
Obstinate, they glisten.
She's fabulous, she knows.

Her last words will be,

"Who the f*ck has my pretty ass toes?"