#societypressure
There are those who have a place,
And those who lost one.
Those who change the world,
And those who are never known by it.
The seen and unseen.
This girl is average.
Like every other.
Manufactured in a child labored factory,
Under horrifying conditions.
Yet she makes the cut, as imperfect as she is.
to live in this imperfect world,
Obsessed with perfection.
Twisted into believing that it is.
Has not enough beauty marks,
And to many zits to pop.
Focuses on high maintenance,
Forgets the festering wound.
Not quite a reject she is.
The bi-product of searching for that ONE with IT.
****** into a fast paced life with a slight limp, and a stuttered lisp.
Unable to catch up.
Yet she hears, and sees,
And knows.
"I was created to fill a space, and yet I have no place."
A clone of every other,
Same microchipped thoughts.
Walking aimlessly on a planet with no room.
Purpose for the purposeless,
Eat or be eaten.
But you can not eat without utensils,
And you weren't packaged with these necessities.
To feed with your hands is primal,
And not accepted.
Live this life until you die,
Unknown and alone.
We all walk the same stories,
Each thinking we are our own.
Some separate, and find a way,
Never looking back.
But for those of us who walk with that limp,
We will never get it fixed.
And in this fast paced "perfect" world,
Where we can't catch up,
We will never find our way.
Live unknown to die alone.
But alas it is our mindset that makes the difference
Is it not?
The challenge is re-coding what we were made into.
Loving ourselves, and fighting for the imperfect world.
Instead of accepting the roles given by society.
That's when we will become someone different.
But it's not easy.
It rarely ever is.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Consciencia
Gritando y Preguntando
En la madrugada
Como gallos del campo
Cantando sus Canciones
Para despertar
Con ojos medio abiertos
Palabras pegadas en mi lengua
No tengo respuesta
Para tu confesion
De admiracion
Es que estoy muy joven para esto
Relaciones y compromisos
Todavía tengo el corazón
De un niña sin preocupaciones
Perdoname por ser sincera
Pero no quiero estar contigo
Me gusta estar soltera
No quiero ser intima
Mejor deja la idea
© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 1:37 PM UTC
Be the saint, they’ll break your wings,
Be the rogue, the chaos sings.
They watch you act, they watch you play,
To twist you into what they may.
A tool, a weapon, a broken vow,
Good or evil, they don't know how.
You dance in rhythms you never chose,
In a theater where the curtain never close.
A smile, a laugh, a hollowed grace,
Masking the void of a nameless face.
You claim the truth, but the light is thin,
Where does the lie end and the soul begin?
Wear the halo and watch it fray,
Until your own heart gives you away.
Don the crown of the rogue, so grand,
Until your own shadow shakes your hand.
It was never a war of light and dark,
Just selfish roles that left a mark.
When the world is stripped and the greed is bare,
Ask yourself who is standing there.
Are they real, or a mirror’s glass,
Watching the same tired shadows pass?
You claim you never wanted the play,
But you built the stage where you decay.
In the end, you hold the script, unread,
And truth is just the lie you haven't said...
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 4:33 AM UTC
A little girl ran over to her mom crying because the boy didn’t like her favorite dress.
And I thought to myself, when did we get used to it?
To all the unasked criticism we never wanted to hear.
Since when is it normal for us to put a price tag on ourselves?
The worth depending on what some boy next seat says.
So I looked in the mirror, picking my skin, wondering why don’t I look like the blonde girl the boys called hot today.
I looked in the mirror, not seeing the beauty I was once used to admiring on myself.
Missing the girl who spins around in her little pink dress, not caring if she fits in all the drawers society made.
Today every girl my age looks the same.
All is kind of beige with a hint of gray.
So please don’t ask me if I like myself because yes, I do, but I would more if I could just be myself and no one would care.
If it would be normal to dress in every style, not just what we call clean girl basic type.
But if I do, I have to fear, what if they don’t like my alternative side?
So I’ll just do my thing, hoping to motivate others to follow their own way,
and hope that one day “normal” has no clear definition,
so we don’t have to manipulate ourselves just to fit in.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 7:01 PM UTC