Pretty
Pretty.
What does it mean to her?
Since the beginning time, she was always told she was pretty,
But at one point that little girl began to question
If what she was told was a lie.
Everybody seemed pretty,
But her.
She was no longer the “You should sign her up for modeling” girl.
She became “Oh, she’s ….. tall”
Or “Wow, you’re big! Oh I mean big for your age.”
When the “pretty” faded, so did her spirit.
The omnipresent smile was gone,
As well as her joy.
She became her mother’s nightmare
Moody,
Sensitive,
Irritable,
Argumentative.
She covered up her self-destructive insecurities with faux confidence and
“No really, I’m fine”
Just as if one covers up their unsightliness
With aggrandize grand eyes, cheeks and lips
No one ever knew that underneath all the bravado
There was still a little girl,
Who seemed grown physically and sometimes mentally,
Longing for someone to tell her she’s pretty.


Incorrect.


This little girl was waiting to tell herself she was pretty
And believe it.

To yearn for comfort
In your grievous heart,
Blighted by traumas
Which tore it apart,

You aim to consult
These friends from afar,
Not realizing
They won't mend these scars

If they're miles away
From the very source
Of these ghastly wounds
Causing the discourse

Amidst those that claim
To offer support,
Yet witness your pain,
But give help of no sort.

You're left all alone,
Not a soul nearby
To muffle your moans
Or soften your cries.

Your heart's turned to stone,
Though love's what you sought.
There's ice in your bones;
Your soul's left to rot.

Blameworthy,
That's me.
Bound by judgment
And childhood nightmares.
Did I mention sleepless nights?
Even though my eating disorder has dissipated
I still forget to eat at times.

What's wrong, darling?
Who told you that
You're not good enough?
That no one wants you?
Who would lie to you and say that you aren't beautiful?

Look at yourself.
Attractive and thin
Friendly and loved
By everyone.
Have you looked at me recently
Or ever?

I am your antithesis.
Grotesque and bloated
Introverted and lonely.
I wish I could be like you
But I will not try to let that happen.
I need to somehow embrace
This unsightliness
This passiveness
How I let people walk all over me.
But do I accept it
Or do I change it?

In essence,
You are nearly sublime
And all I am
Is one mess of a life.

My body is a canvass
Tinted are griefs
Of reminiscent past

My body is a wall--
A mural of every break, every fall

My body is a plate
Etched of anguish my mind berates

I am a paint--
Deep, dark burgundy--
The shade of my soul's ignominy

I am a brush--
Strokes of hate in the evening's hush

I am a clay--
Molded in disappointment and dismay

I am a charcoal--
Smudged by idiocy
And ideas that are shoal

My body is a sculpture--
Crafted with unsightliness and disgust

I am an edifice--
A construction of mars,
Founded by scars

I am the thread of my clothes--
I wear to cover my bones--
   I hide in the closet--
I deeply loathe

I am a masterpiece--
Of repugnance and self-grudge;
Of vexation, of lies--
Of hate! Of hate! Of hate!

I am an art--
A sophisticated tragedy,
An intricate catastrophe
Perfection in all grotesquerie

Let love and compassion flow into your heart
And drown all the anger in its path
Such a heavy burden will be lifted from your soul
As your happiness and joy you take back

Hate and resentment harbored from within
Destroys all the beauty you have inside
Let love and compassion take it from your heart
Then, in joy you can abide

Replace the unsightliness with beauty
That flows only from love
Then you'll find rest in your journey
And the peace that comes from up above