Beauty

Society has programmed us... undesirable,

Imprinting in our brains over and over what we should strive to be.

We believe that in order to be acceptable ,

we have to live up to these bull shit standards called... beauty.

Society shouts: “Girls, boys, you're pretty, you're cute, but you're not beautiful.”

But take it from me… Someone who consist of nothing more than a few scars, some stitches and a voice,

YOU are beautiful.

Irreplaceable.

Or as the cool kid in the back of the class says jokingly  “You look screwable.”

Your thoughts and actions are tender and merciful.

You brighten every room you enter with love and compassion because,

True beauty can't be seen.

It's not lust or sensuality so it can’t be touched.

Beauty isn’t the sweet smell of the roses from the boy down the street, because the perfume from unknown lovers still linger in his sheets.

Beauty isn’t the taste of her perfectly shaped full lips or the flavor or her chapstick.

It’s not the sound of the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear, because he’s said these things thousands of times but only once too you my dear.

But to something you can't taste, smell, touch, hear or even physically feel,

Does true beauty even really exist, or is it just physical appeal.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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