She grew up in a room of dolls.
Slender and tall, she loved them all.
Fair and blonde, she admired them all .
The view of beauty then surfaced.

Teenage years met her pics online.
Signs of dawning credulity .
Paved a path of doubts in mind
A creation perfect she felt no more.

"What can I do to fit the world?"
A desire to be loved by all.
Melanin became a taint on skin.
A slim figure the perfect shape.

"What can I do to prove myself?"
That I was once a beauty queen.
Her face became a work of art.
Of different shapes and colours.

She threw away a modest covering.
And pulled her skirt above her knees.
Sleeveless and breast pushed up on.
Navel reveal, a...