Beauty is skin deep,
That’s why we cut into our flesh
Because if we dig deep enough,
Maybe we’ll unearth it.
Maybe we’ve built industries
On our insecurities,
And use scalpels to try to cut away
The pain.
Flaying open our bodies
To make ourselves fit into our skin
In the way we feel it was intended.
A searing reminder we are not good enough;
The fires in our hearts
Diminished,
To ashes in our mouth;
We were all Stars,
Galaxies burning out
To cover up our scars.
We were not born perfect.
We were born into these bodies;
flawed.
Peices of art Michelangelo couldn’t even create;
Wanting to be smoother,
Wanting to be softer,
Till our bones break.
Half filled with hopes and dreams,
And aspire to slice open our wishbones,
Peel Away the skin we were born in,
Stitch them together in designer patterns;
Our patchwork lives
A reminder
That when the bandages come off
Maybe we will look into the mirror and see someone new.
Were we not beautiful enough as originals?
Did we step down off our alters
To become editions in a plastic surgeon’s series?
Shed off ourselves like old skin,
Pieces of ourselves we can never get back;
Do we hate ourselves so much?
Do we don hospital garments like evening gowns,
Wear gauze bandages like thorn crowns?
No amount of altering our skin,
Can change ourselves from within,
Learn to Love you;
Learn to appreciate the dimension of your body,
Don’t alter your body;
It was born to fit.
Change the perspective you look at it.
