Why should I believe that beauty is not skin deep when everything tells me otherwise- it’s all everyone cares about- it’s all they ever advertise.

Why should I believe that this life is fair and that people around me don’t really care- for the shape of my face or the color of my hair- when all they seem to talk about is beauty as they stare- inside their screens and turn green with jealousy of a beauty they don’t think they behold- why is it always hard to love yourself? That’s not what I’ve been told.

Thelipsticks and the dresses never were pretty because whatever you do is never enough for people in this city- and as the days stretch out your meals shrink hoping your stomach would look flat when you took a drink- of that ****** tea that promised to make you thin as your bones grew prominent under your skin- and now you start thinking while throwing up in a bin- is this really worth it all? When did this begin?- it’s then that you realize it was the unintentional words of a friend- a magazine page- or a picture you pinned- on the wall of your room of a singer in Berlin-
does anyone care for what’s within?
Does anyone care for what’s within?
it’s all images and looks that define who you are- it’s what the boys look for when they go to a bar- it’s not the words or the beauty you hold inside- or the kindness you carry as you sit by a lakeside- wondering if you’re worth anything when all this beauty perishes  and dies.

It’s what’s inside that counts, no matter how many times you recount- the calories in your food or your weight on a scale-
It’s what’s inside that counts, even if you think it’s not and try to no avail-
To please all these people that only care about a sale- who are too scared of doing anything they love because they think they’ll fail- who are too insecure that they seek the approval of a male!

In everything they do they are mere copies of people they think are greater- ones that if you dared to criticize they’d call you a ‘hater’.