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Unbeautiful, Says Who?

Poetry By: swords edge

who says we're unbeautiful? since when did the world get to judge us?

Submitted:Jun 10, 2011    Reads: 74    Comments: 11    Likes: 7   

This life, this soul, will never be seen as people see me for what I am on the outside.
people can never get past skin deep.
I'm beautiful, I'm scared, I've been broken and bruised.
but all people see is me, me on the outside.
I'm beautiful, I radiant, I'm a light to all of those hurting because I know what hurt is.
But this world doesn't see that, they only see my skin my hair.
So what am I?
I'm I what the world sees me to be?
Or am I the girl people who care know me to be?
When I turn on the tv all I see is skinny women, women with perfect hair, perfect body.
Their "perfect"
so what does that make me?
If I don't wear makeup right, if I don't wear size 4 jeans.
I'm not seen as beautiful.
I'm my hair isn't blond, if my face has acne.
I'm not perfect, I'm not what people want me to be.
But since when did the world judge me?
Since when did it mattered what hair I have, what cloths I wear?
Do they define what or who I am?
Since when did I have to be size 4 or on a diet to have a man love me?
Do they know who I am?
do they define my life and who I should be?
it's who I am on the INSIDE that counts
it's who I choose to be that decides my destiny in life.
It's who I'm striving to be that earns me love.
If I'm a size 2 or 22 it doens't matter, some one loves me, and they love me for ME.
So let the world break you down. Let it tell you that your not worth it.
Let it show you everything you should be, but think of this.
When you die, does it matter?
Did you live happy or in pain.
Did you strive to be something other than yourself?
Only in the end to be a size 2
only to have blond hair, blue eyes.
To have perfect skin.
But when you have those things, after all the pain after all the suffering to get there.
Are YOU happy, or are you trying to make the world happy?
I'm who I am
you are who you are
and some one will love us for US
no more no less
I am who I am. . .
but who are YOU?


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