I am daylight
of a dissolving stay
in Paris
looking over
wrought-iron dreams
peering through
baroque and promises
at the ransom note
written on
a sleeping **** sunbather's
****-cheeks
where it reads:
"...our marriage
was nothing more
than a foxhole to you."
~

This is the subconscious belief
That marketing today uses
It feeds off of our insecurities that it knows we have
We search for acceptance from it
So we extend our naive necks to its fangs
Until it bleed us dry
Pocketing our money for its own greed

Makeup
It tells us that in our natural state
We. Are. Not. Enough.
That blemish
Cover it up
Those sparse eyebrows
Draw them in
That wide nose
Slim it down
You’ll become beautiful
I promise
Just give me $150

High heels
It tells us that in our natural height  
We. Are. Not. Enough.
You may be 5’ 1 or 5’ 7 but wear this
It might add maybe an inch or two
It’ll be worth the pain
I promise
Just give me $70

Push up bras
Tell us that in our natural size
We. Are. Not. Enough.
Whether you’re an AA or DD
An extra bit of padding and lift
Will make you more desirable
I promise
Just give me $40

These are only a few products
There is still
Plastic surgery
Fillers
Waist trainers
Facetune
Photoshop
The list goes on and on

When are you going to make the decision
To learn to love yourself unconditionally
To demonstrate acceptance towards yourself
Since nobody else can
Because they too are stuck in this vicious cycle
Make the conscious decision today
Instead of giving it to society subconsciously for forever

I struggle with out
You in my life because
Your the other
Part of our heart.