Our World's Disease

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A question that I often wonder
Fills my mind while the quiet world sleeps.
It seems to pull my sanity asunder,
And the better part of my brain it always reaps.
Who's to blame for skinny sadness?
Who's to blame for scars on wrists?
It is society that causes all the madness,
who quietly harms those in our midst.
The mothers ask why their daughter has fled
To a world where all is pure and bright.
Is it because our world is dead,
And cursed with a distorted sight?
For beauty is now just skin and bones,
and masking your face from its true shine.
You cannot be satisfied by yourself alone.
You cannot be valued by your heart and mind.
“You’re too big, you’re too wide.”
“Your hair is way too thin.”
“Sorry, miss, we don’t carry your size.”
“Take better care of you skin.”
The media feeds us unfulfilling lies,
and we fall prey to believing their myths.
Those people who like to think otherwise
is one in a million in our world like this.
 
What is beauty? What is truth?
Does it lie in a reflection or frame?
This twisted idea has poisoned our youth,
and the reality fills my heart with shame.
I want to change me, and the definition of beauty.
I want the world to see what's real.
I need to stop the lies that persue me,
I need the world to know what I feel.
Beauty lies not in the powdered face,
Not in your skin, your body, or size,
It is not a string of pearls or a dress of lace,
It is the soul that dwells behind the eyes.
It is you for you, and no one else.
It is your mien, your mind, your heart.
It is you who is beautiful, simply yourself,
and all other fallacies this truth will thwart.
This truth of beauty is what others must know,
It fills wandering minds with ease.
And my smile I found could continually grow,
for I found the cure to our world's disease.

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