Society tells me that to receive attention I must achieve perfection, use cover up to cover up my individualities, my mistakes,

erase all of my rough edges until I fit the mold,

we say we hold these truths to be self evident, but in practice the fact is that we are unequal- unequal to the task of constant perfection, maintaining the mask lest anyone see what lies underneath.

Blemished. Scarred. Ashamed. Lonely. Flawed.


But as we brush over our blemishes we believe

the beauty of of those around us is effortless. So we put up walls

to protect our put-on perfection, but upon close inspection the pitfalls of of this mechanism

is that this comparison robs us of our joy-our fire


our unique strengths are clawed out of our chest, replaced with a poisonous heart,

corrupting from the inside. A heart that pumps loneliness,

pumps insecurity

pumps I’m not enough-not pretty enough, not worth enough, not smart enough, not interesting enough, not good enough-

Not as perfect as her


And as we misplace others on pedestals of perfection we miss places where, upon close inspection we are looking at a refection of



But we need not live in this condition, living imprisoned by corrupt traditions, nay, let this be my benediction I-


I will not live up to the expectation- society’s fixation with female beauty will not rule me,

Controlled by another's’ vision of who I should be-

I will embrace my sisters wholeheartedly, building up what has been torn asunder,

reaching out with love and looking out with wonder at the beauty

they don’t see

This poem is about: 
Our world


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