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Ariana Sweeney Apr 2014
Go ahead and look in the mirror.
Stare at the stranger till the image is blurred
Everyone around you, well they’re superior
So you drink past the pain till words become slurred.

Please, pray tell me, what exactly is beauty?
Is it simply an outfit we wear?
The color of our eyes, skin?
A glint of something special,
Something to make them stare, grin?

Beauty is a figment.
Beauty is a fallacy.
Beauty is in our mind.
Beauty will die, and so will we.

It’ll erode with time.
Turn into a slick, thick slime.
After you’ve hit your prime?
You’re done.
You’re garbage.
You’re finished, gone.
It’s a fact of life, now it’s time to move on.

This life we’re in, a selfish game we play
The cards we’re dealt, a hand that can’t fold
We’ll shift through scenery seeing a vast array
Of truths and lies that’ll always be told.

We hold onto beauty.
We treasure it.
We put it on a pedestal.
It is the God we adore,
The saint we praise,
The prayer we recite.
“If I’m this pretty, well…
At least I did something right”

We base self worth on looks.
The pool we bask in is shallow.
So easy to touch the bottom.
Vapid, almost worthless thoughts
Float along;
Skimming the surface
Where they seem to belong.

Scratch past that surface and what do you find?
Maybe a small girl, cowering with fear.
She makes herself perfect so the whole world is blind,
It’s her established façade that she holds so near

Near to her heart,
Near to her soul
She’s lost then she’s found
She’s so good at her role

Her role of the perfect,
Her role of the light,
Her role of the worthless
Her role with no fight.

She’s trapped in her box,
She’s chained to her arm
It’s a weight she can’t bear,
Only one to cause harm.

But go ahead, run away,
Run as FAST as you can.
We won’t catch you because you’re a worthless man.
That’s how you see yourself, so that’s who you are
When you’re sprinting away, you won’t get very far.

You’ll trip on your own,
You’ll fall over your feet.
Stumbling, tumbling
It’s you you’ve just beat.

Learn from this now,
Try to HEAR what I say.
Beauty’s the cruelest
Game that we play.
My attempt at spoken word.

— The End —