Judy plucks, plucks, plucks her top lip.
She creams, creams, creams her face
with lotions and potions.
She knows agony over and over
from gazing in the mirror.
She knows all about being stitched up.
She knows the shock horror expression
of an audience. She knows the difference
between those that can see her real self
and those that look straight through her.
She knows the needy, the spiteful,
the superior, the users and the pitiful.
Still, she gets by, does what she must
to keep a roof over baby’s head.