Perfection (April 8, 2013) in Old OD Entries
- Feb. 7, 2014, 12:15 p.m.
- |
- Public
I wrote another poem today. I felt like sharing it.
There she stands Pale skin, eyes touched with cerulean Long blonde hair kisses her slender shoulders Face that possesses delicacy Body, thin and shapely She is the embodiment of beauty
She brushes her golden hair, making careful note of each strand She applies her make-up like that of an artist to her canvas She then examines herself with close precision
She begins to hear it That desperate voice in the back of her mind One that won't go away The dismal view of herself returning The opinion that can never be changed The voice that can never be satisfied
She feels that God has not been kind to her Agonization over every blemish Grief over every imperfection
Why has this disease consumed her? Made her so superficial Made her into a product of society Made her into something she cannot look at in the mirror That stranger looking back at her has become familiar The stranger who will not love her, but will erase her
Her fate is determined She will hide under a false identity Never accepting anything but what is now familiar
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