A word that is the antonym of antonym -
Not far to be found - synonym.
Though synonym is an antonym to antonym,
Only synonym is a synonym to synonym.
Not unknown to us - being something to ourselves
Yet others will put us down
Maybe, someday, I’ll find my synonym.

Welcome to society,
We hope you enjoy your stay.
And please feel free to be yourself,
As long as it's in the right way.
Make sure you love your body,
Not too much or we'll tear you down.
We'll bully you for smiling.
And then wonder why you frown.
We'll tell you that you're worthless,
That you shouldn't make a sound.
And then cry with all the others,
As you're buried in the ground.
You can fall in love with anyone,
As long as it's who we choose.
And we'll let you have your opinions,
But please shape them to our views.
Welcome to society,
We promise that we wont deceive.
And one more rule now that you're here,
There's no way you can leave.

they're spotless, no room for human flaws here.
with faultless sense of selves and fragile attributes
are silver stars, whose homes are cold glittered spotlights
pressured, battered and bruised. look away dear, they're "fine"

they're fine, scared and composed until the next plot twist
rarely, ever so rarely - a perfect one slips
a miscalculation on a regular day
phenomena, wasn't supposed to be that way

perfectionism drove them faultlessly insane
when the known consistent road, shatters to eggshells
"ever so rarely", they reason to the mirrors
with guilt mixing in the blood of walking in fear

inner madness unleashing, black swans reappearing
the wrongs, how cruel that it doesn't let them go on
"this is only once in a blue moon", they echo
deep breathes, clutching close, the past's panic they can't let go

They once said that "a piece of cake, is a slice at the beginning your life"...
But is that even true...at the very most end of the spectrum, from which your heart beckons too the very mind that surpluses the very objects (from which is can't find itself in the mess of truthful results), that begin to truly shame the result of even trying to piece things together, time after time...?
NO!
Which are exactly why things don't need to be remembered from right off the bat.
That's because a piece of cake is the truthfully defining reach from which we can't solve the very most bottom remedy from straight out from under our very heartstrings. Heartstrings in the very form of how our very life began. When you were too busy fighting objections too win over your very mind's eye (at the very center of opportunity itself)!
Basically, the very end results, begin with a single fraction of those very "to-do" list heartstrings...that don't truly account for the most interesting of logical finds. Simply put, it literally calls forth (the very claim of one's own arrival) at the very hands of remembering what it was truly like too live again!
Except, when you tasted the very cake that belonged deep in your own heart.
And a heart that is truly beginning anew, again. But with a twist, you see....
Nothing is really the same, after from which you taste this newly found piece of cake, that slices off one end of its own self...and disregards the rest, after the final aftertaste had reclaimed it's own glory.
This is mostly because you think you feel what the mind's eye REJECTS the claim like a chronic storm of results for the such displeasurable spectrum.
Now you know when you slice a piece of cake at the very end of one's own life, and take that slice at the very beginning newly found account...for it is a truly newer start at the very beginning of something entirely new.

Me, my body, my skin.
It’s all wrong.
The world told me to change my face, make sure nothing’s misplaced.
‘You should be perfect’
My eyes are an ugly color, my nose is too big, my forehead is too large.
The world told me to look through special goggles, look like a model.
‘You should be perfect’
My waist is too large, my hips are too wide, I’m not skinny enough.
The world told me to change the clothes on my body, be as beautiful as a poppy.
‘You should be perfect’
That dress makes you look fat, those clothes are too revealing, not that, it’s too boyish.
The world told me to change my personality, think with less intellectuality.
‘You should be perfect’
My ambitions are too smart for a girl, my attitude is too kind, too trusting.
The world told me to change the way I look through the mirror, see myself clearer.
‘You should be perfect’
My insecurities are unreasonable, I should be happy with myself.
The world told me to have body confidence, have more self-tolerance.
‘You should be perfect’
You are beautiful, you shouldn’t have insecurities.
All while telling me ‘how to be perfect’...
It’s all wrong.
Me, my body, my skin.

do we conceive
each other
in such
different ambiance?
like how eyes aim
to see souls instead of faces,
bodies and flesh
how different our concepts
of beauty would be
detaching away
from the standards
and norms of society
such appearances are neglected
interiors over exteriors
if only we see thru things
beyond nakedness
bound from expectance
when one
does not feel a stranger
of her own skin
— g.c.

"- then i learned that society is broken, not me."

Be badass
Be beautiful
Be everything
Be nothing
Be heard
But only speak when spoken too
Be patient
Be assertive
Don't be bossy
Don't get stressed
Don't let them see you crack
Be perfect
Be woman