Previous entries here and here.
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if I were less of me
and more like you
would I be alright?
would you love me more
if I looked like the models in the magazine?
boney flesh, bared on glossy paper, beautiful?
layers of colours, a madeup mask.. hides you..
redefining your idenity
wrapped up in your image
and forgetting that you breathe
your tiny frame
breakable like glass
never thin enough..
the pages
they tell you who you are..
who you should be..
tired of the comparison
“the perfect look”
change this… change that
look like this..
this ever changing standard of beauty
distorted by the consuming vanity
physical scrutiny
you forget that I am real
you forget that I feel
I am not an object
I am not on display
and would it be okay if I were just ‘me’?
apart from the vision you have for me
I fade away
..and only this distorted image remains
who am I?
and what have I become?
chemically, artificially, me
Models is a magazine
photshopped beauties is what we dont see
fake tittied wonders that make us drool
men seem to think that they are cool
little do they do its from the help of a scapel
their food for the day? its less than an apple
starving, barfing and so much more
if you dont like my body hun, theres the door!
:)
My child lays softly on my breast. Soft, sagging, empty.
Once life flowed, rivers of mana. Now flat, wrinkly, loose.
More full than ever, my life, created from the manifestations from my dreams. Fluid, dreamy, open.
Nothing could ever happen to my body that would strip from my soul of the love that been born.
Stunning simply stunning! I wish everyone out there could read this and truly understand that no matter what beauty truly does come from the inside.