Pain is beauty

I think it’s really messed up that the first thing I think

When I start crying is whether my make up is ruined

Because that’s what is most important right?

Not the reason for crying, but looking okay while upset

Don’t let them know

Wipe away the mascara black stains rolling down your rosy cheeks

I’ve become warped by the idea that what I look like is

The most important part of me

The compliments that are supposed to make me feel good

Just create this outer shell and destroy what’s inside

Because what’s inside has no worth

According to the people who keep reinforcing my face

Instead of my thoughts or my words

And instead of trying to be the best person I can be

I want to be what ever “pretty” is because that’s what people want

They want me to parade around and give them kisses and bend to their wishes

But what does being “pretty” mean anyway?

It’s really not something to “be”

It’s an empty shell, its flirtatious and coy

Batting eyelashes and saying sweet nothings

It’s not messy, emotional, and clumsy

Pretty isn’t complicated

It’s putting on red lipstick and moving on

And the more I try to be pretty the more it hurts

Because I’m not pretty

I’m so much more than that

I can never be good enough for someone

Who only sees me for my face

Because I’m more than my mascara laden eyes

And my lip gloss smeared mouth

If you look at me like someone you want to kiss

Then I would move on because you’ll be disappointed

You’ll be disappointed because I’m intelligent and witty

Because I work words into sculptures and rope them around

Like a wild rodeo woman and I say things that’ll stop

You in your tracks and if you want simple and easy

Then please move on because you don’t deserve me