playing games with these things
creating perfect images
of me.
this body such a fickle object
a sight to be seen
hey even the moon has her seams.
but continues to shine bright
as any star ive ever seen.
but judgement is the only energy
that is passing.
when you look at me
what exactly are you examining?
there are literally 1,000,000 women
whom as beautiful as me.
at this rate you'll spend your whole life
looking up to
Queens.
which is fine with me.
They'll tell you that you're inappropriate.
They'll tell you that you're being offensive.
They'll tell you
That your ruining their image.
Then,
After 4 years of kleptocratic rule
With your country in ruins,
You'll ask them,
"Is it okay to speak out yet?"
Condition me
And tell me the songs,
The rhymes,
The fables
Of display
To show me your greatness
In every single way.
Make me stand up
And salute you
Every single day,
Pin me up
And make me your brand
To brag about your arsenal
And send your bombs away.
Paint me your image,
A one I was never sure
If I wanted,
And blind me in flashes
Of gaudy light.
When the display is gone,
Do I agree with what you done,
And is it all right?
a mirror
a piece of glass
an object that
with one wrong touch
would shatter into a myriad of pieces
in a fight against my fist,
it is powerless
so tell me why
such a fragile entity
holds such power
over my life?
tell me why
my reflection
laughs at my confidence
causing the ground to quake
and my heart to flutter.
my certainty begins to dwindle
as the mirror
holds my self-esteem in its clear grasp
and cleaves from me
what little conviction
I have left
tell me why
what stares back
gives me sleepless nights
thinking about the differences
between my reflection
and that of
those surrounding me
although it shouldn’t matter that I’m different
and that I should have pride in being an individual
tell me why the shards hurt
and tear apart my skin
piece by piece
gash by gash
before the glass
has even been broken
tell me why
the eyes of others
make me feel
as if I need to change who I am
to meet their beliefs
of what a girl should be
tell me
what should a girl be?
should she be pretty and poised?
slender and tall?
curvy skin
a full face of seamless makeup?
I am a girl
who is as brave as I am smart
and who is as strong as I am beautiful
and while the shards of glass
and those behind
tell me I am not
I know my place
I know my purpose
Being cast in Your image,
We thought ourselves gods.
Its unnatural
Running my body into the ground
Fleeting eye sight
Too loud of sound
Bloody eardrums, ignoring the feel
Washing my clothes
Chasing her appeal
Withering body
Dry and decay
I can sleep another day
Pushing myself every ounce I own
Failure to launch
I am all alone
I promise you not to eat,
Swear I did not have cake today,
Please believe me. But where is
the change in my body, where are
the skinny legs and sticking out knees, where is
that flat stomach
unflourished and infertile womb.
I promise you that the next time
He takes off our dress
which remained size six,
The next time,
I promise you
He will see the skeleton we are built of.
The boy will greet us with flowers
we cannot accept.
I promise you I will drink only water,
Feed on my thoughts
And burn those skin cells out.
.
Waves of psychic nausea
make the teeth shiver,
as the mind grates on lava
and the cloak pulls tight.
An echo from an illusion
permeates the imagination.
glistening with rancid dew
resplendent in its own reflection.
The image mirrored
is not the genuine original.
The genuine original
is not the image mirrored.
Born of the same picture
yet entities of separate strokes,
Romulus and Remus consort
to blur the edges and paint the story.
The host, confused and special,
supplicates to the paths,
waiting for the reformation,
release, relief, and re-definition.
© Pagan Paul (19/06/17)
A cracked mirror distorts the image
I don't have to look at myself in disgust
Overweight
I don't feel pretty
Apply makeup to my face
Does it help?
Look into my eyes
They tell my story
Of someone who is screaming in the inside
Trying to escape this body I have
But the image gets clearer when you fix the broken pieces
Looking deeper within yourself
This is me
And who I am
Finally I feel human again
I feel dirty because of what you did to me
and no matter how many times I clean myself.
The image of your hands on my body
Never seems to fade away...