Discerning marks of beauty from blemish

The tousled mess of curls, uncontrollable

Processed, picked, prodded

Scrutinized, analyzed, ostracized

 

Ripples of muscles under plump layers

Bumps, bruises, human still

Some inked, some pure

Beautiful? One may wonder.

 

Touched by hands uninvited

Rarely revealed, left unrequited

Barely eighteen, yet lines caress

A face covered with smiles

 

But one might see

Beneath the sheet

Of Grinning, Chuckling,

Laughing, Smiling,

 

The eyes

Green

No longer enhanced with the practically

Permanent powder every girl knows so well

Tired, trembling, tearing apart

For the composure

 

What composure?

Twenty pictures later

Two filters, color enhancement,

Close them. Open.

Smiles

 

Perfectly altered

Changed? No, just filtered.