Two Sided Perfection

Flawless skin and flawless hair,

perfection, deception, everywhere!

Just look in the mirror; what do you see?

For twenty-nine ninety-five, you can look just like me.

No pimples, no blackheads, no ugly scars,

this skin-bleaching product will get you so far!

Oh don’t worry, girlfriend, no illnesses or side-effects here,

just flawless perfection from ear to ear.

What’s the catch, you call from your comfy couch?

Well, you’ll no longer want to just sit back and slouch;

instead, you’ll be outside walking, or sitting at the bar,

eating a small salad or chilling in your car,

smirking as the cat-calls and whistles roll by

and wonder why women all around want these things to die.

You’ll look in the mirror every morning and say “Wow

“I can’t believe that thing really worked, somehow.

No drawbacks or side effects or things to make you dizzy,

just looking back at my old self’s pitiful misery!”

You may tear up from all of the giggles and laughter

so touch up your makeup very soon after.

My only warning to you is to steer-clear

of public mirrors and windows you go near.

They show you your old blemishes and disgusting faults

and you’ll begin to hear words that sting like lemon and salt

on an open wound from years and years past

and you’ll begin to wonder why the good things never last.

Once you look into one, you will want to look into another

and you will see, of course, no other

than the face that you had thought your twenty-nine ninety-five

plus nine ninety-nine shipping and handling, had disguised

behind false perfection and fixed reflections,

underneath your own rejection and meticulous inspections

to the little things that don’t even matter to anyone but you.

No one thinks about that single zit on your face, but you.

No one pays attention to the scar you got on your cheek

when you were riding down by the old rocky creek at age thirteen.

No one looks at the chip in your back tooth, the way your ears

stick out like sore thumbs, the way you cry big, fat tears

in the girls locker room because you feel disgusted with yourself.

So once you’ve given in, place this product on the top shelf,

with the rest of your hopeless insecurities, and hope that one day,

maybe it’ll make everything better, that it’ll make you okay

with the things that you have to offer, rather than enraged

because you decided you felt your confidence was locked in a cage.

Anyways….which form of payment would you prefer?

Debit?  Credit?  Maybe even some cash, I’d infer by the looks of you.

Thanks for your time.  Your package will make you shine, dazzling and new.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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