I'm reminded of an ancient Chinese poet
Who became so frustrated with his lack of talent
He wanted to burn all his works

He chose instead to make himself blind
By holding a burning stick of wormwood to his eyes
So that he couldn't read them anymore

But others could

We saw the natives,
Stole their land,
Burdened their country
With a foreign brand.
Called them savages,
Burned their villages
Prayed to God
To help us pillage.

Knock the natives
To their knees,
Call them inhuman
Take what you need.
Never apologize,
Never confess.
They deserve no better.
Look how they dress.

They’re not decent people.
They aren’t even nice.
How could they be?
They don’t believe in Christ.
We sure don’t want them
To be our neighbor.
They'd not even be that
Much use as slave labor.

Let’s fix this country
Everybody lend a hand
We are all living
In the Promised Land.
Stolen from natives who
Knew what they were doing
Now we are letting it
Descend into a ruin.

Putting on eye shadow then taking it off again. Changing the shades of my lips or the color on my cheeks. Too much base or not enough, to hide my blemishes. Longer eyelashes or shorter ones I cannot decide. Do I match the picture in the magazine, is that really me. I don't even look like myself. I can't eat that or I will get fat. Should I wear heels or flats? Does polish go with my dress or do I need a French manicure. I can't decide, its driving me mad. I want to be liked, I want to fit in. I stress so I want to eat, but then I have to throw up and I am hungry again. Is all of this worth it, can't I be the real me. All I want to be is beautiful.