I am powerful. 

Me.

Not someone on the side of the street commanding I be more like that girl. 

That girl. 

Sitting on a pedestal she is prim and proper. 

The epitome of society with her size 2 dress, long blonde hair and alabaster skin.  

She is beauty in the eyes of the societal beast. 

Forced to live under a veil of tortuous perception of aesthetic beauty, I am compared to her.

But I am the powerful one.

Not her.

I condone myself to my own standards.

No one else’s but mine. 

I am famished and hunger for change. 

A change in which beauty from within is stronger than that girl and the beast.