A word so sharp so deadly that it can take lives.
Am I pretty enough?
Just a few more pounds and finally I’ll be pretty.
But the satisfaction never comes.
I start to go numb as I look in the mirror crying because I’ll never be pretty enough.
Why didn’t this get more likes? It’s because of my fat face.
I plaster on makeup to hide the imperfections.
I analyze every calorie as it devours me.
Society has taught me that my worth lies only in how pretty I am.
But I hear you whisper to me saying how you made me for more.
I wasn’t made to be pretty.
I was made to be pretty amazing.
Pretty is the last thing I was made for.
For I was made to cut the noose off of men and women who are being strangled by their own insecurities.
I was made to bring light into the darkest of hearts.
I was made to be a force that cannot be stopped by being told that I’m not pretty enough.
Because I have had enough of slaving away to what society wants me to me.
I have had enough of comparing myself to a flawless picture that doesn’t exist.
I have had enough of trying to be pretty.
For I was made for more than a simple word that lacks sustenance.