So I guess she's perfect...

The way her lips curl around her barely-lit-cigarette,
How she curves her shoulders in- like a little girl
And never holds her head up high,
She's the type of girl, who could drift into a lonely abyss,
But still hold a smile,
As long as she keeps staring at her toe crossed feet.
She could leave and they would never say,
They miss her.
She's the girl you'll always forget.
So I guess she's perfect,
In that fucked up sort of way.