I will not hold a lie against my face,

a pixellated mask, heavy on my conscience.

The sound of youth constructing barriers of separation

is thunderous and inescapable.

Their tiny, rough hands

hold the glow of a screen in prayer,

like a routine ceremony

they warp their faces,

sending jolts of lightning information to the electric storm

raging in the night sky,

a whirlwind of re-edits and lies,

not to worship any god 

but to make themselves the creator

of a false image,

a new face to be praised

exalted

coveted

by those who gaze upon them

through the faint blue glow of a screen,

with bright green envy surfacing in their aching eyes.

And as I sit in the darkness

surrounded by these pale faces,

illuminated only by the holy light 

of their devices,

a feeling of distraught overcomes my being.

 I wonder if they are sick

of this barrier we have constructed for ourselves.

I want to tear it down,

find a new place where our hearts are warm,

minds are open,

And any veil that had promised beauty and perfection

will be burned,

revealing the faces we were blessed with,

all decorated with dark spots, light hairs, and wrinkles.

I want to dance in the sunlight and grass

instead of shadows of uncertainty and shaky telephone screens. 

I want to be told I am beautiful by a human soul

with flesh and a voice

Instead of pixellated words pasted beneath a picture.

I want a human experience

without filters that build upon eachother

to create concrete barriers.

My face is flawed

my life is flawed,

There is no filter

on life.