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This may be archived/posted anywhere. Just give credit where credit is due, thanks! Tiffany By Pretzelgirl She wears a pale violet sweater And I'm so glad I have met her. She tackles life so un-fettered. She's kind to all she sees. Hair hangs down across her eyes. Her baggy jeans are oversized. (And she has nicely rounded thighs!) Her name is Tiffany. She's not afraid to laugh. And she stands up on behalf Of the weak and low and needy. She is Tiffany. She never wears a skirt. Yet always finds a way to flirt. But still her feelings get so hurt. She's everything I'd be. She's confident and strong. Always finds ways to belong. No one says that she's been wrong. Her name is Tiffany. And if I could be anyone She'd be the one I'd become. Without her, I feel so undone. In her presence, I am numb. Her favorite color's brown And she often can be found At this storefront near downtown Where they display new art. At dusk she likes to roam Through quiet streets alone Where the lights have never shone And contemplate her empty heart. Still she says she's not "all that." She tells me that she thinks she's fat, And her world is filled with strife. God, I wish I had her life! She drinks a Vodka Tom Collins. She says technology is all sins. She listens to Henry Rollins. She's not afraid to be unique. She hates all new-age gadgets. She lives in a world of magic. She thinks that progress is so tragic. She's so bold, yet very meek. Though her voice is soft and low There's no place she'd dare not go She moves with quiet majesty. How I wish that I were Tiffany. - The End - If you liked this or hated this, please leave a comment. If you enjoyed this, please read and comment on my other stories. Thanks!

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