Pretty girl, you forgot to put on that smile today, the way you are expected to. Sad girl, with that heart now hardened like you became one with the cold in the stone, flip it over. Maybe the mask is hidden beneath where the bright side lost its way in the shadow. Lost girl, looking down like your eyes are glued into concrete where your dreams are stuck and they can’t breathe. Maybe you lost your light there too, I expected more from you. Silly girl, you can’t shine in the dark. You can’t make it far without the mask. You can’t make it at all unless you at least fake it with a little bit of effort. You had one thing to do and you ruined it. What will people think? You can’t just go out and let the world see you like that, being real like that, fucking it all up like that. Why are you constantly dropping the ball, diving headfirst into your own fall? It’s not that hard. You should have this mastered by now. People don’t really think you have a beautiful heart, stop being naive. No one fucking looks at that. It’s the outside that counts. The world cannot see the inside, they can’t hear the shit you’re constantly spilling like blood from your heart, ready and willing to bleed for the sake of the words, in the name of healing. What do you have to heal with such a beautiful soil? But here you are, face down in the blood bath of poetry, like a massacre you can’t stop calling home. It doesn’t make a difference. No one wants to open an ugly package, you know? Why don’t you take care of the outside before you invite people to look in? That’s not going to save you. Don’t be stupid. You gotta be full-face, made up perfect, eyelash Barbie, not a hair out of place, and lose a few pounds because thin can save ugly sometimes. You need to be boutique perfect head to toe, shoes to match the look, cram your foot in, whether it fits or not… do it anyway. Yeah, beauty hurts sometimes, but it’s worth it. No one cares how you feel inside- get your shit together on the outside, girl. Brush your fucking hair, and smile for once like you mean it. Smile with perfect teeth showing to prove it. Head up always, there’s no looking down unless that’s where you want to be. Stand up straight. Display yourself like art begging to be cat called, welcome the whistles, invited or not, to make it matter. Beauty validated by a strangers approval; you made it. Beauty validated on that scale of one to ten; look at you being a ten. Beauty validated by a notch in the belt, damn girl. Doesn’t it feel good? To be beautiful like that? Cat called like that, rated on a pig scale like that? Fucked like that? Well, you need to carry yourself like you’re proud of that, be so proud of that. Be a lady like that. The inside is nothing if the outside is shit… learn it. You really need to learn that. Have you learned it? Then you earned it, didn’t you earn it? Mold the outside perfect, like bait making the inside seen, show it all, flaunt it all. No one wants mysterious. Show it like an invitation for the cat-calls to whistle hard enough to blow up that sex doll displayed. Own it like cleavage shoved up in your face for your social media selfies, and don’t forget to say “thank you” to all the men who comment how beautiful you are. Because you are… they all said so. Why would they lie? They’re looking at your face.
They are all looking at your face. Even though most of the pictures show your breasts popping out to make you look super confident. Right. So, be a good little whore and say thank you. It’s the least you can do. It would be rude not to. Go on now.. do what you were taught to. Work it like the sex object you’re expected to be. Do it like you love yourself. Make the grade, get off with a warning instead of a ticket, and get so many “likes” for the lady you are. And we’ll all pretend that you are filled with self confidence instead of self loathing, insecurities. We will smile and pretend you are beautiful from the inside out, because your breasts… they said so. The scale said so. The notches in the belts keep saying so. The “likes” said so. The world said so..
Why don’t you believe it? Who could have possibly made you feel so worthless?
Who said so?