Half the time
The mirror smiles at me
And the other half
Breaks because of me
Torn between the complexities of me

Imperfection,
Why should such a cruel word exist?

Beautiful,
Why should a word so magnificent be spoken so seldomly?

Why should I,
As a woman compare and contrast?


Why should it matter what size certain body parts are or are not?

Is the heart, the soul, not all you need?