Zoom Out

Zoomed in:


451 mm and the pimples are volcanoes bursting

     Dried tears run dusty trails down the

          Uneven slope of my unwashed face

     Nose a million miles long and growing

          As you watch, fueled by the little white

               Lies that add up and everybody knows and

451 mm look down, and hold me steady

     Because I stand on nothing; uncertainty clouds the

          Ground I should find my feet but I can't my belly

               Too bloated with self-hatred to see over; I'm exhausted

                    From keeping it all in, sucking it all in, and

          My claims are invalid every answer is wrong every

               Friend is fake and I know nothing, I am nothing

     I cannot, should not, will never be able to--


180 mm and my acne is not so bad, only a few spots on my jawline

     My legs appear beneath softly smiling crows' feet

          In fact, I might just need new shoes because

               My old ones are so worn down from standing, their


     Dreams rise like balloons filled with helium

          High, higher they go and suddenly the sky's the limit-

               I might just be able to reach it--


7 mm and the flaws are

     Gone, all the blemishes smoothed

          Over are all the doubts and could nots and now

               I rule this hill, give me the world because

                    Now, now I can take it

     Zoomed out, and my life takes shape

          Millions of little lines, little defects

               Dissapear into one smooth, continuous curve

                    A confident brush stroke of life and love I'm

                         A perfect circle.

               I turn away from the tripod, put down the camera

          With which I scrutinize my every move like I'm an ant

               One of a million just the same, too tiny to make a difference,

          Trying to find my Outstanding but instead accepting the

               Needs Improvement ... ?

     I walk away and I'm not an ant but a peacock and I

          Strut confidently with my imperfections waving resplendent in the air

     Because I know they aren't imperfections and I'm perfect as is-                 but-


There on the sidewalk is a small ant, smaller than the rest, struggling to carry a leaf,

     Falling behind the others and I stop and I show him my feathers

          And he isn't an ant anymore but a lion who roars with pride because


We are all



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