The Real Me
Are you so sure that you want to see the real me,
the me beneath the smiling selfie?
Can you handle the pain, the grit
that hides behind the grin?
Do you truly want to see what lies beneath,
beneath the veneer,
beneath the veil?
Do you truly want to behold,
behold why I can be so queer,
behold why I cannot prevail?
A spectacle of happiness laid out for the world to see
"I'm fine! I'm satisfied! I'm smiling! I'm happy!"
the pictures scream. Inside I'm screaming
too. Too many tears streaming.
Thoughts of self-loathing,
Oh G-d, they're roaring and roaring
Like a hurricane, a tornado,
day by day, hour by hour, the destruction continues to grow.
You tell me to speak,
And then to speak up when my voice is a squeak.
"Why are you so silent?"
Why am I so quiet?
"Why don't you say what you mean?"
Why don't I come clean,
lay myself bare for all to see?
Because you don't want to see the real me.
Without my makeup, my filters
You can see my acne scars.
Without my facade, my control
You can see the slew of scars that mark my soul.
Without the filter, I'm not quite so pretty.
And since you like to pretend the world isn't shitty
We're at an impasse.
Don't treat me like I'm made of glass
But next time I pass
by,
don't you dare ask
why.
Because now you know.
You know that beneath the glam and the glow,
captured through the lenses of a camera or phone,
there is a girl confused. Confused
by the world in which she was abused.
Confused by the abuse that is self inflicted.
Whoa! Hold up! This isn't what you depicted!
This isn't a cry for pity,
for help. Far from it.
But next time you see me happy,
Don't look too closely.
And next time you spot me grinning,
don't question whether or not they're winning.
They--the devils that haunt,
the past that wrought
havoc upon
this shattered pawn.
Because they're victorious,
and they'll continue to be notorious
to the deceptive me
until the filter is no longer necessary.
Because otherwise why would I need to hide me
behind the filter of a selfie?
