A poem I wrote about the modeling industry in America. It's a bit disturbing, but very real. Inspired by the documentary, "America the Beautiful." Enjoy!
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Black lace gloves
A face so pale
Radiant clothes
Spiky red shoes
Spotlights shining
Strut down the runway
“Good show, nice work.”
But look in the mirror
See the face they’ve designed
It can’t be you, that’s someone else
You recognize the crying eyes
But everything else
Belongs only to them.
Everyone loves your body
They’re lavish with praise
Skinny hips, long legs, tall frame
They don’t care to notice
The tears sliding down
Breakdowns don’t matter
The mask you wear is good enough
Looking like a million bucks
But feeling like nothing inside
There’s nothing to live for
A face is loved, personality discarded
All that they ask for are smiles and poses
And you give it to them nicely
Packaged up with your lies
Tied with a string of self-doubt
A Christmas alone grants presents like these
No friends around the fire for you
The slut in the mirror will never deserve it.
