Change yourself they say,
Into their sick, unnatural image of beauty,
To be worthy,
Of the company of puppets,
Held up with strings.

Strangling individuality,
Vomiting syllables,
From a prescribed list,
Careful to fit right into place,
Too afraid to stand out.

With their skin stretched thin,
From the abuse of being poked and prodded,
Nitpicking each flaw,
Falsely perceived,
By strangers.

FLAW (noun),
[ Flô ],
A defect in physical structure or form,
An imperfection or weakness,
Arbitrarily assigned by faceless men and women.

How can you claim,
That I am,
Not,
Exactly as I was meant to be,
Meticulously sculpted into my form?
That freckle,
The slightest imperfections within my features,
Beauty marks,
They breathe the essence of my life,
Setting me apart from the shadows of people.

I don’t want your plastic features,
Molded in silicon,
Created in the image,
Of Alien beauty,
Rather than the image of living.

I will cherish my freckles,
My curves,
Even my scars,
And welcome the wrinkles that come with age,
They define me.