Value

She's not a diamond,
In this the truth is known at last.
She's not even blown glass.
Nothing useful,
Nothing good,
She's not even worth the air and blood.
She stays up all night to howl at the moon,
Sleeps too late,
Wakes up well after noon.
Walks graveyards to keep the living at bay,
And while she hears the whispers,
She ignores what they say.

She makes feeble attempts to get better
But still ends up numb.
She's just cubic zirconium.