My skin
Her face
My legs
Her waist

All so different
how will ever I match up

I'm different
and I should love what I am
Dark hair and eyes
Beautiful caramel colored skin
I wish I didn't have to lie
Do I really want to be where they've been?

But they're all so perfect
Her long legs thin
Her flat stomach
Why can't I be them?

My curvy waist
My strange smile
My weird laugh
I always look vile

I want to talk to them
but i'm not plastic
I need to go hit the gym
before I do something drastic

Not only do they see me ******* up out here
they don't see any bit of my heart
but what I constantly fear
is that they wont think i'm a work of art

I never stop crying
trying to stop my pronounced fate
I'm so tired of trying
to let go of this internal hate

I'm a woman of color
A woman judged by her skin
I look at my self and think i'm duller
because everyone knows you can only be beautiful
when you look just like them
so simialr

You become a involuntary twin.

As children we are encouraged,
'Do your best'.
we are told that,
'You cannot do more than your best'.

So then when we are told,
'Well your best isn't good enough'.
What now?
We cannot do more than our best.

The words,
'Your best isn't good enough',
What is there of that to make?
Are we, ourselves, not good enough?

The most we can do,
Our current capacity,
It does not satisfy.
Our 100% is inadequate.

The texture of the glass is rough with blemishes,
convex with swells of adipose tissue
and spotted with stray hairs.
The occasional splotchy flush
on the sallow complexion
is just enough to suggest life
but not in the right locations
to suggest beauty.
The glass sneers.
The glass snarls.
It takes handfuls of its dull, lanky hair
and yanks,
as if with one tug, the entire image could come to a screeching halt
like the break line on a train.
It's a hideous image,
but it doesn't frighten like a vision of a monster.
Instead,
it insights a painful tug in the chest cavity,
an ache,
a slow, throbbing pang
that lengthens with every glance.
Nothing feels quite as horrible
as the realization
that even if the glass breaks,
comes to the floor
and splinters,
shatters...
Its duplicate will still exist.
In me.

You aren't enough
You can see that
Every time you look in the mirror
Your reflection stares back
Pointing out
Every
Single
Flaw
There's so many
You talk too loud
You speak too much
And you always say the wrong thing
You aren't pretty
You aren't smart
Your grades show that clearly
You're definitely not popular
The way you search for a table at lunch
And no matter what anyone says
You aren't enough

Butterflies have wings...
So do other lovely things...
Where are mine then, God?

Being a girl is hard
But being a black girl...
Let me tell you about being a black girl
Leave Out
Twist
Frontal
Perm
Pick your poison
"Unprofessional"
Or falling for " European Beauty Standards"

" Why are you so quiet?"
Do you expect me to be aggressive
And snap my fingers in an A-Z formation

Light Skin is the best skin
Or so they say
I'm jealous of my brother, for his caramel skin
Oh what I'd do for that caramel skin

You think that's the worst of it but have you see ****?
Cute girl makes love to -insert famous **** star here

Ebony b-itch gets banged till she squirts

Which would you rather watch?

If you ever turned on a TV you'd see reality shows with the perfect blue eyed blond hair cast and the one black kid who doesn't get enough attention

Ever since Rachel was the Bachelorette I too prayed one day I'll find the man of my dreams

Have you ever had a crush on someone and ever think if they even like girls your skin color?

Being a girl is hard
But being a black girl
Oh let me tell you about being a black girl

Friend, do not envy the perfect
Because in order to achieve perfection
You must first live feeling that you need to be perfect
Just to be good enough
Which has never been worth it