Perfectly Imperfect Facade

The first thing a young woman learns,
Is to criticize.
We are taught to see only our imperfections.
We are taught to look into the mirror and self destruct.
We focus on our faults.
Of course we taunt others..
But that's just a deflection of reality.
Always focusing outside attention to anything but ourselves...
Because our own harsh judgement is more than enough to tear away our self-esteem.
In my years, I've learned to see my faults,
I've learned to see..
My true self.

The camera flashes and I see my image.

I see the faults

I see everything.


I look further than the dark rings under my eyes,
To the long, sleepless nights of wondering what the point of this ragged breathing was anymore, what the point of this fiendish persistence was.

I look further than the unkempt hair to the look of rejection and fear underneath years of torment that was kindly paid forward by the wounds of stabbing words petty enemies felt the need to inflict upon me, cracking and wounding the cocoon of a mask I had crafted around myself for psychological protection.

I look further than the disappointing physique and lack of beauty, especially by modernized and hallmark idolization standards, to the broken girl lying underneath the ice of her own cold heart and words, to the girl who has given up trying to change her appearance, because who the hell does she have to impress?

When the time comes, and I have to truly take in the disgusting beast that is myself,
When I look further and further,
To the deepest depths,
I see the truth.

The jagged scars from taking the reigns, from casting my life into the confusion and frustration at the world in the haste of teenage angst, were brought on by anger and hurt and heartache. The quickened racing stripes had left crimson pools on the darkwash tiles. They were the jury, defendant, and evidence, all in one case.

The way I'm uncomfortable in my own skin because I'm used to being mocked for every minute thing that has ever been wrong with me, ranging from the wide hips to 'thunder-thighs', from pale whiteness to the extremity of blemishes kind enough to dust my cheeks.

The way I press emotions deep down to my core, snarkily snapping at anyone who has ever attempted getting close, turning them away from myself, afraid of letting anyone have the advantage, the ability to hurt.

I see all the cracks of the slowly shattering facade,
I see the truth behind the lies.
When we are taught to criticize,
We are taught to see the fault-lines before the earthquake of reverberating words do.
So that we can cover them up.
But it's time faults be forgotten.
Faults aren't blemishes or mistakes,
They are beauty.
It's time to stop worrying about perception.
When people take time to truly see all their dark, ugly secrets,
To see the sickeningly daunting fragments of their own lives,
They can finally see that imperfection...
Is truly perfection.

When the lighting flares up,
And the photographer snaps a shot,
I see.

All those wounds and pieces tear away that filter of what we perceive reality to be.

What I see behind my lens,

Is a masterpiece.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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