By Amberdawn Collier

In her infinitesimally small corner of the world,

she dwells, running on the circuit

of babysitting, home-coming dresses, crushes

of varying magnitudes.

Her room, full of plastic trophies awarded

for beauty condoned by white, middle-aged judges,

has bright blue walls plastered

with posters and maps

of New York City.

New York City - it is the rainbow that tears across

her otherwise sterile horizon.

It is the only thing that can salvage her existence,

the only salve for the sore of being a bright,

shining star in an environment that strips

individuality bare to leave the conforming

masses with icy souls and still minds.

If she can make it out,

she might realize what

she's truly worth.