makeup
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Acne dapples your face
just as stars blemish the sky.
I’ve seen you look in the mirror
to ask yourself why.
You seize the concealer,
yet your smile, still wry,
because no one picks up a brush
Your Face is not a canvas
You don't need to put makeup all over it
I had a girl ask me if her makeup was ok, I said yes
but then she says I wear make up because it makes me look Prettier
She painted her face the way she painted her body,
To cover the pain and tears he left behind.
~awatr
Heels on
Makeup done
Dress on
Picture posted
I'm here
Move out of the way
I'm gonna blow your mind
I'm gonna crush this tonight
Look out world
Here I come
Mirror, mirror, upon my wall.
Tell me is this even me at all.
You have no choice but to show my reflection.
Show me this and I'll pick out a new imperfection.
So, what will I do today?
Dear makeup wipes,
You cracked the warm beige – no medium – foundation
And chipped at it
With your chipping fingernails,
Whispered in my ear that you loved the toxic red armies
imperfection is a pimple.
an irregularity, red and raised
in the middle of your face when you are 11
to you it is unfamiliar
so you buy concealer
It takes me maybe 5 minutes to do my makeup in the morning.I'd start with some primer, after all- I don't want to damage the skin you once placed little pecks on.
she dips her makeup brush in gunpowder instead of eyeshadow
because her mother was a soldier and her father was a poet,
Remember on Halloween when boys would dress up as superheros?
And if you did as a girl you were considered a weirdo?
I find it funny because when I wear makeup, I feel like one,
You know what Darling?
Throw away that makeup.
Feel beautiful as you.
Now this is not another one of those ones that is going to say acne is beautiful.
That your flaws are perfection.
No.
She used to trace her eyes with a path of blackI assumed it was to grab attentionShe would perfectly fill in her acne scars’ gapsMaybe it was to be the best additionBarbie dolls, and Maybelline models
Crack of dawn I smear my war paint,
Slathering it on, free of restraint.
My life would become an empty abyss
If I were to go Make-up-less.
Ready for battle earless to complaint.
It doesn't peel away, but I can take it off
It makes me feel beautiful
But I can wipe it with a cloth.
Compliments from boys all day
Somehow boosts my confidence, but
It's not me, It's my mask they see
Morning I wake up covered in dust
Lying in bed all night makes my bones feel like rust
What I can do to make myself look "right"
I look for the nearest mirror; and turn out the lights
girl in the bathroom paints on her facecovering the spots on her skin hoping to be like the otherscover it for the mornings but reminded by the night timeknowingly she changes her looks
I have these insecurities.
They’re not on the inside
Or maybe they are.
To cover these insecurities
I use a age old tool
I.
When she was ten
The first zits
Appeared on her face
While her friends continued to bask
In their childhood glow.
Small and pink,
Barely noticeable,
I was born in January,
many don't remember because
often my birthday falls on the same day
as civil rights day,
and the oppression of rights is much more important
Makeup can be just an
Inexpensive surgical treatment
Seeking to pleasure your need
To please a society full of greed
Concealing every piece of their identity
Take the picture.
Too high.
Too low.
Just right.
But what's wrong?
Your nose is too big,
Your smile looks weird,
And your hair looks bad.
Take it again.
And again.
It starts in 1999, when at five years
old, still chubby-cheeked and new,
I learned that make-up was for girls
as night over night I watched my mother paint
Smears, smudges hide my face
In the dusty reflections of the mirror
With shaking hands I can place
The nose, the hair, the eyes
But in a glimpse they're chased
From my tentative tries
Who am I?
Am I perfect
No
Am I confident
No
Am I a lier
No
But I am smart
I am unique
And maybe a little shy at times
I do not fake my personality
I show my true colors
What is it like to be me?
She asks
Envy lining her words.
She's talking about the test
That I aced
The quiz
I defeated
The teacher
Who loves me.
I laugh and smile and joke at her
Natrual beauty is what I favor
Foundation hides my outside beauty spotlight
Mascara covers my lashes in a sticky maneuver
Blush conceals my dimples from sight
I will still be Beautiful inside and out
Eyeliner, masacara, eyeshadow,
Concealer, foundation;
All to take me away from me.
Which filter to choose?
How to cover up myself?
Maybe people will like me now.
My hair is too curly
So I straighten it
The light washes me out
So I dim it
I put on my makeup
And strike my pose
Bet you'll never see the real me
Under these fake clothes
If you say makeup is false advertising,
you have never spent twenty minutes
drawing a perfectly smooth line along your eye
i woke up like this,
sun in my eyes
sqinting towards the day ahead.
beary eyed and a dry mouth with a side of drool
a disheveled mess
with a good morning sounding like a grunt.
Eyes hold lies
Ears hold lies
It is not only the mouth that holds lies
Whatever you're seeing is wrong, YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL
Whatever you're hearing is wrong, YOU'RE WORTHY
I stay the same underneath,
What my selfie seems to be.
Whether on or offline
My smile stays the same.
I am the player,
And Instagram's the game.
Underneath the clothes and shining light.
The world describes using filters
and wearing makeup
as a way to hide our true selves from the world
Being told I am not enough
I get hurt because I care too much
I turn to things that help me up.
The art of makeup makes me forget who I was
I got myself a new identity since I cannot go back to what I was.
She may not be the very definition of beauty but her self-restrained chaos unravels all connotations of the word.
She’s more than a number, more than a status.
In a world of never ending can’ts, won’ts, shouldn’ts,
What is a filter?
A thing to hide behind?
A painted on disguise?
To attract the guys
The world we live in we have to try so hard to fit in
I can not pretend
So maybe that's why I don't fit in
Who am I, a broken clock,
Who rings a bell and says tick-tock
Amidst the glorious choir sing
And silent, stay what they would bring.
No repair for many years,
'Twas I who broke the seamless gears.
With #nofilter
I am a human
A contender of life
A mess of flesh and chemicals
Flowing constantly.
Only Certain
To follow instinct
Or change the instinct
When you take away all the fake smiles and forced laughs
Take away all things that I've conviced myself that I am
Your left with a girl
Eye shadow hides the bruises from the mean girls
blush hides the punches from my boyfriends hands
lipstick hides the pimple that sprung up over night
why do yo wear makeup? you will never understand.
Eyeliner, lipstick, foundation everywhere,
Nowadays it’s a necessity because I want to compare.
My bare skin, my naked face,
Just doesn’t seem perfect unless a filter is in place.
There's been something weighing on my mind; you see, girls are supposed to be these
pretty
little things, with
ditsy
little brains,
but what has society's image done to our self-image?
You say that you need all that makeup to look "pretty". Well, I know how you feel because I fall into that trap, too, but don't let that CoverGirl cover up the real you. Because you are unique. Whether you're
LOUD
or quiet,
I hide behind a mask of insecurity, a mask made of makeup.
When I put on my foundation, I conceal the batte scars.
The ones that come in the form of dark circles underneath my eyes.
Sabrina Petroski
110-86-7165
Eyes open
feet slide off the bed and touch the cold floor
step after to she carries herself
Every morning she stood in front of the mirror and was ashamed of what she saw
She hated the kinks in her hair
the sea faring bridges of her nose
the fullness of her crimson lips
So she sought refuge in makeup
When I used to look in the mirror, I would see
A girl who struggled, but yet was sometimes pretty.
I struggled with my relationship with my family.
Although they clothed, fed, housed, and spoiled me,
Now, don't cry, you've got
makeup on, and do you
really want streams of black running
down your face, do you want
people to say
that it looks like your soul is
leaking out of your
eyes?
This is my facade
My mask, my security
My assuracnce of no judgement
I walk around, unhappy
Not okay with who I really am
I pretend to like guys, and only guys
I don't think that I can see it as well as other people
You can do it again and again for centuries
Checking my work
My new job
Making costumes
Doing makeup
The only thing that can make me happy
Fingers brush over my skin
That is soft but resistant with moisture.
Brushes tease my grasp.
This is art with brushes that doesn’t need a canvas.
I’m not organized,
It's chaos.
The truth is I don't know who she isDisguised so goodI blew thisWith the lipstick on high heels strongBut my ankles not so muchI'm just trying to show that ICan play the roleJust like all my friends
Magnificant form of
Art, not to be
Knocked on.
Exciting beauty in
Unthinkable hues.
Paramount in my interestes.
Everyone wears a mask.
It's as if we're all at a ball.
Who are you really?
I may never know.
I conceal who I am to be seen
The foundation I walk on is not pristine
I powder on false details to change myself
Base my life to look better to someone else
Depression is seen through smoky eyes
She awakes from a night of taunting dreams
Let’s her mind wander upon the happenings of the day
Soaks it in and just breathes
With a tear of hopelessness
She applies her make-up to only hide her true beauty
Hollow black circles line her eyes;
Her lips so red - unnaturally so.
Freckles hidden by a powdery vail;
She doesn't want anyone to see.
Why, I ask, does she cover up,
Such natural beauty and grace?
A young girl, dawned in a butter yellow
With glitter on her eyelashes and paint on her lips
Pushed up onto stage hardly before she even knows how to say no
The bright lights beat down upon her startled face
I doubt it’s ever crossed your mind that I am not putting on a mask in the morning, but I am not hiding behind my mascara tube.
I am putting on my armor.
Feminine is not soft.
Pounds of product
upon fresh faces
unnatural colors
smudged on skin
the distorted views--
we howl in strange beauty
We paint ourselves
Every morning just past dusk
Brushes aroused from their shelves
Spritzing florals and musk
Cheeks dusted to look like roses
Noses powdered to a matte
What is your Ethnic makeup?
Is it the redness of your lips that speak the words of roots and origin?
Or is it the way your eyelashes curl, accenting your eyes to understand the accents of your homeland?
No Makeup do you need
You’re Beautiful without
That make up.
That dot upon your face is what makes
You.
No makeup you need
Your beautiful without
The powder.
To me you’re a desire.
She says she strong
Since there’s nothing wrong.
But, I know better than she.
She thinks she higher
But she’s a liar
The stronger one is me.
The one with bruises,
Who always loses
I look in the mirror, but I don’t see my face,
I see a lot of things that are pretty
out of place.
I gather my tools and I primp and I fashion,
A mask to hide
The flaws I imagined.
(poems go here)
Looking at her
with her Chinchilla fur.
Lady of Guidance and Grace
only to shut you down in your face.
With her arrogant brow
she demands all to take a bow .
It would say:
For eyeliner, mascara, blush, and concealer,
All there for girls appeasement
And there magical purpose
Remains to bring about disguise
Large boulders of smoke roll down your throat and coat your breath with the smell of false happiness. Yellow stained fingers cover a frequent cough. You sound more and more like your dog as the days pass.
I look in the mirror
I hate what I see
The person I’m looking at
Can surely not be me?
When did I become this?
I’ve lost track of time
My lips are painted red
Those eyes can’t be mine
