NoFilter Scholorship slam
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It took eighteen years to realize I didn't need anyone's approval That my appearance had nothing to do with my personality That I didn't need to edit my photos because I am perfectly fine with the way I've grown
When time dawned first for me A cry tore from blameless lips Unbeknownst to I, naïve That nothing pure remains Indeed, the world blew through my lungs Such earthly wisdom I inhaled
I don’t wear makeup, it’s true. I won’t cover my face with goo. It feels weird, and is such a task, but all the same, I wear a mask. What I hide behind it is not my face.
In the wind there’s a whisper, It speaks the truth but I choose not listen For it is not what I want to hear It bares the words that I have been running from my whole life The fear clutches in my throat
Watching the world break Wondering when it will end Things keep getting worse
Filters are just lies we tell ourselves to fit in with the rest of the world. Filters don’t make us happy they hide our true selves. Filters hide who we really are
I see music notes in my hair when I take off my filter
I don't hide with makeup Social media? Nope Don't say YOLO or 'sup Give it up, there's no hope Silence is my filter No expression, no voice
I come from the southern heat filled with country accents From a mom who worked hard now her back's bent I've had an uncensored mind since adolescence Seen the truth as a child I was learning lessons
The real me is not as perfect As I make it out to be. The real me wears glasses Because my sight is far from good. The real me has wavy hair That is no where straight. The real me has freckles
When you look into a mirror who do you see? Whe you snap a picture do you use filters? When I look in a mirror I see me I see a girl who is afraid of being alone A girl who wants everyone to get along
stop hiding behind that shade uncover your face
I prefer natural beauty over the help of filters any day but:This is how my life looks without a filter to make it brighter.
When I look In the mirror
Letme tell you the unfiltered version of myself Screw society's standards Screw the government Screw dollar signs getting in the way of my education. I'm one pissed off chick.
Once one, now another. Who is real? Tell me mother. You gave me birth, and now I'm me. But am I my own, or but a product of she? It can't, no, can it truly be? That I am but one single solitary me?