A product bought by thousands and applied by more
A thing used in the attempt to be perceived as beautiful
But some take this a step too far
Scratching in rouge with fingernails,
Applying lip liner with a blade
Letting the freshly bee stung blood come inwards, dripping down the throat and acting as calloused hands
Making for veins on the eyelids to pop
Creating the perfect permanent eyeshadow
Staying up all night blending black and blue together
Never pale enough for the only foundation they were ever given; now the perfect shade of torn paper white
Running fingers through hair
Thinning for free
See a lot of girls use makeup
A lot of girls like me.
She wakes up every morning & looks in the mirror.
Not happy by what she sees,
she covers her face with makeup.
She thinks it makes her look pretty,
but I know she's pretty without it
& I tell her everyday, hoping she believes me.
Sometimes I wish
When I put on my eyeliner
A toddler would say
you look like a raccoon
And when I put on my lipstick
a child might tell me
your lips look like their bleeding
and when I wore my eye shadow
one might tell me
it looked like someone punched me
and I had a bruise
and when I wear powder and foundation
a child would say
you look like plastic
But they never do.
In fact when I wear makeup
came up to me and asked me why I was so pretty
and I thanked her, and said
You are too!
but she walked away
I wanted to tell her that my beauty was artificial
I wanted to tell her that my visage was fake
I wanted to yell to the world that this face
was what society created.
I wanted to blame it on society
which I could, if I wanted
But more I wanted to blame it on myself
I felt so pretty .
But was that what counts?
Is pretty what matters?
what about internal beauty
and intellectual beauty
and natural beauty.
When did powder caked
sometimes I think
that I really need makeup
to hide me from myself
when I look in the mirror
all I see is my bad
brought to life
small eyes, full of lies
full lips, I'm a bitch
my mother likes to say that
I don't need makeup, that I have a nice face
but that doesn't explain away
because girls snicker at me,
boys call me crazy behind my back,
that my father calls me fat
because "he loves me
so maybe the one, two, three layers of slick and color and shine
will bar the anger and wrongness
and lack of reason or rhyme.
maybe one day i'll have the courage to wash all the makeup
maybe one day