The Horror Of Beauty Standards

I wake up every day and wish no one thinks of me the way I do.

But the way I look is sadly just as unappealing as it is true.

I never sought praise with a masquerade of self doubt.

And when they accuse me of that, I fake a smile, while all I'm willing to do is shout

I tell myself a million billion trillion times that looks don't matter.

One look and one word otherwise can make it all shatter.

I look at myself and wish I was fairer, taller, fitter, and what not.

These were never my instinctive cravings, these are only to me what you have brought.

How will a little girl of 5 ever know that her dark skin is unsightly?

She feels resented yet she gives all her strength to take it lightly

If I were to change one thing about this world, I'd vanquish this obsession with surfaces.

So we would stop running for beauty in these rat races.

Is the sustenance of a world where people are judged for who they choose to be so unimaginable? Is the emancipation of beings to enhance themselves so unfathomable?

If our looks were an upshot of our hearts, would we not want to have a beautiful one?

A world where goodness could have fairly won.

This monstrosity is why I grew up when I was still supposed to be a kid.

I hope little pure children aren't forced to bring themselves up as excruciatingly early as I did.