The Shame

I would change myself

my hair, my face, my life-

Or try to at least

Shoot for perfection

when perfection is warped and pretend.

The clown mirror hangs, glaring at me

Taunting me,

making me squat

distorting my face.

How am I beautiful?

The magazines show skin

so I must too

The God I know says,

"I made you in MY

image."

I am Eve in the garden,

hiding with shame.

I don't always believe Him.

I wish I could change the shame;

in me, in girls, in boys, in people everywhere

And say God made you

to love

and to live

and to be far from perfect-

at least in society's eyes.