If only my feeling beautiful had anything todo with me.
Thoughts and expectations comprised of the imagines draped in magazines and on television screens.
My plight is not with man and the confounding timeline of how it became this way.
Unfortunately, it’s within myself.
Why wasn’t I born 5’10, with an athletic physique and fair skinned?
What is solace for me and many others at the advent and end of the day when looking at a reflection in a dishonest mirror?
When we are forced to hear and see people who are quite stereotypically beautiful say,
“Everyone is beautiful…in their own way.”
My plight is not with them,
The singers, the models, the very obviously fit men and women who only play my character in movies.
It is unfortunately within myself, my soul.
And no matter the times a friend would say it to me.
This “beauty” I possess is unsatisfactory.
What do I say to the 300lb man that knows no one will think of him romantically, until old age.
When the heart has forgotten about love and starts fearing the pressure of being alone.
What could I say to the dark skinned girl who’s beauty is frequently mentioned, but with an unforgettable peculiar tone?
I smile at blemish free skin in the mirror.
I stare deep into my own wonderfully shaped, but weary to see brown eyes.
I caress hair that is naturally wavy.
If only thoughts of being beautiful had anything todo with the individual, with me.
But I, one man can do nothing but wait, for the next treading tide in industry.