Peering through the window
That reflects your dissatisfied self.
You look at the manikins in admiration
and wish to be more skinny.
You watch the models go past
in their gorgeous bodies,
fashionable clothes,
painted nails
and perfect makeup.
They walk with the air
of the ignorant; vain
and materialistic bliss.
They strut through our streets
Like parading peacocks,
Always looking down their noses.
You stare at them,
Not seeing what I see
And wish instead to be them.
You starve yourself
Until your ribs stick out
And your hairs fall out.
Why bother going through all that pain
Just to follow the plastic zombie rave?
The one that haunts our generation, mutilating
Teenagers from the inside until their damaged minds
Are reflected by their outward selves.
They suck the soul of society
Leaving nothing except
More plastic posers;
Spreading like a virus
Across our empty streets.
Can’t you see your beauty inside?
Whatever your size or shape
He will always strip away the mortal layers
And see the soul inside.
We may not be perfect
But to Him we’re fine
As we are and forgive us
We’re human after all.
Autor notes: do you think this is too cliche or doenst really explain itself well?
