I am
something you see
in magazines and on T.V. screens.

I am
a puppet
dangling from strings,
—catering to whims.

I am
a complexion of impossible perfection,
distorting the perception of your own reflection.

I am a set of eyes comprised
solely of desire.
I am a set of breasts,
at best.
—I am a woman.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem