Illusion

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Snap! Snap! Snap! all day long in the girl's bathroom. Lights flashing everywhere, skin showing, lips perched like a betta fish.



Ridiculous if you ask me.



However, I don't like being an outcast. Pictures I post prove to be nothing but an illusion. Millions of horny boys trying to reach me because I give this deamonor of meaniness with beautty.



Could it be the vibrant colors the filters provide. My hair is black as night. Eyes brown as almonds. Skin soft as a feather, no blemishes. Why put a filter then? Nothing can ever be to perfect. Someone is always prettier, smarter, faster. The world is a competion and one must compete to showcase their most perfect self or what society considers to be perfect and beautiful. 



Could it be my breast filling up three quaters of the picture. Sex sells, sex is great, women and men are objects made for pleassure. This is bull, but many prasie the playboy mansion than the home of God. The stupidity of this nation.



Or maybe could it be that they can honestly tell by this pornographic image that I am a 4.0 student, that I vouletter at hospitals, that I Rose am not a nymhpomaniac but an academically outstanding student.



Oh please humor me.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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