this poem has been a long time in the making,
it's not easy like stating, how the sky is blue,
or the grass is green
it's more like how I feel so BIG,
but never seen,
how I loathe that girl in the mirror, and her taunting, nasty screams
she is evil
as she pokes your sides, laughs at that belly you try desperately to hide
calls you chunky, just look at those thighs
girl in the mirror, so full of self hate
your mind is such a powerful thing to waste
on thoughts solely existing to enforce doubt and a need to keep pace
with those matchstick, anorexic figures
always shoved in your face
when it comes to beauty, when did less become more?
when did real, wholesome girls get traded for the *****?
when did your self worth become something you could pay for?
when did being beautiful become dependent on if you shopped at 'that' store?
they used to say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder
and I've noticed as I've gotten older
that you cannot quantify beauty based on what we see
'cause this world will look a little different to you
then it does to me, and there's no cookie cutter
labeled "beautiful girl", no molded shape to uphold
so big, tall, slender, small, dressed in rags so fine, or dressed to the nines
you're all gold
so long as you're sold
on the fact that you are beautiful!