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grotesque
Beauty is a knife, and I hold it by the blade,
Gripping tight to what cuts, the sharp edge laid
Bare against my palm, a reminder of the cost
Of finding light in the darkness, of what's lost
When we chase the mirage of perfection's face.
It's in the mirror’s gaze, a relentless race,
A pursuit of flawlessness that leaves scars
Hidden beneath the surface, a constellation of stars
That maps out the pain of trying to belong
In a world that tells us we're always wrong.
We wield beauty as if it were a shield,
But it turns on us, forces us to yield
To its whims, its dictates, its cruel decree
That we are never enough, never free
From the judgment, the comparison, the endless fight
To be seen as worthy in our own right.
© jMaj161914
Gripping tight to what cuts, the sharp edge laid
Bare against my palm, a reminder of the cost
Of finding light in the darkness, of what's lost
When we chase the mirage of perfection's face.
It's in the mirror’s gaze, a relentless race,
A pursuit of flawlessness that leaves scars
Hidden beneath the surface, a constellation of stars
That maps out the pain of trying to belong
In a world that tells us we're always wrong.
We wield beauty as if it were a shield,
But it turns on us, forces us to yield
To its whims, its dictates, its cruel decree
That we are never enough, never free
From the judgment, the comparison, the endless fight
To be seen as worthy in our own right.
© jMaj161914
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