The Veil of Beauty
Poetry
a half-eaten apple rotting on the window sill,
every dinner is followed by purging till she feels ill.
‘beauty is pain’ isn’t that what they say?
for she only feels pretty when she’s starved the entire day.
he’s only good at math when he’s counting calories,
and his mirror reflects flaws he can’t bear to see.
and he’ll tell you a million beautiful features of everyone around,
but when he looks at himself not one of those can be found.
the movies and the magazines show perfect bodies and faces,
no scars, no acne, not even traces
of imperfections, flaws, or something out of place,
and when we’re fed all this how can we not be born of hate.
but even then, even so, here’s something that’s helped me grow,
a little reminder, for you may have heard this before:
but your weight doesn’t define you, nor does the curve of your hip,
not how tall you are or how small are your lips.
for who you are is not dictated by the way that you look,
but is instead found in your music taste and in your favorite book.
you are defined by your kindness, your talents, the way that you think,
for beauty is here now but can be gone in a blink.
