I think that I’m cool.
I try very hard.
I wear the right trainers.
I think.
I’ve got the right clothes
I’ve got the right hair
It’s just that I’m short
and I’m pink.
My friends are all longer
and stronger than me
They fold into elegant lines.
Their pants are all baggy
Their t-shirts are grim
Some of them make their own vines.
My Mum says don’t worry.
She says that
I’ve just got to wait.
She says that we all just get through it.
It’ll all be alright
when I’m eight.