Poetry. 

Beauty is a face made of plastic— 

a button nose, doe eyes. 

A face suffocated with makeup deemed “natural” by the internet of lies. 

Beauty is a body with certain curves

and certain lines. 

Beauty is a standard that likes to discriminate and criticize. 

Beauty does not like when it sees people who do not check all its boxes,

so it calls upon loneliness, bullying, and disgust to stalk them—

to prey upon them like sly foxes. 

Never letting them know: it was beauty which was the cause

of all their misfortune. 

And, if the fox prey fight back, 

then beauty checkmates. 

It sends ugly to decimate. 

It blows away self-esteem.  

It shoots confidence and pride, 

and it kills dreams. 

Why should beauty have the power to make some people loved more than others

and dispose of the rest in the gutters? 

I call on intelligence, courage, honesty, and kindness to overtake this corrupt dictator, 

for society to brand beauty a liar and a traitor. 

You gave me the strength to move forward when I had none 

You pushed me gently, so I could run

You told me to stand back up when all I wanted to do was fall

Why did you give me so much only to leave me with no one to call? 

Eventually, I had to find someone new, 

but even they haven’t looked out for me the same way as you used to

Maybe, I was like a little sister to you,

or, maybe, another type of feeling inside you bloomed

I wonder why you took such good care of me

but then left me behind

My new friend makes me happy, and we’re almost always by each others' side

They are there for me once in awhile

and often make me smile

Walks after school together are lots of fun

and so are our frequent moments in the grass, under the sun

A friend I cherish and will definitely keep,

but sometimes they aren’t there for me when inside I feel like all I want to do is weep 

I realize that, really, I must learn to thrive on my own,

and gain strength from myself alone

But, sometimes, in the back of my head, I still hear you say

words that helped me get through my day

Why did you stop being my friend? Sometimes I still wonder why 

It makes me sad sometimes but not enough to cry

When memories pop into my head of you, sometimes my heart drops

But, I know soon the sometimes and the subtle ache will stop

because I no longer need you to lift me up,

because I know that me, myself, and I is enough

Every day, I inhale that horrible smoky gray in several breaths,

and every day I get closer and closer to death

The innocent and unassuming should not be punished for the actions of those who love their cigarette,

forced to inhale a gaseous threat

I call for action against this device, this addiction, this weapon of destruction

I call for designated rooms and places for construction,

for where these people can take their abhorred smoke,

so breathing is once again safe for us other folk

I do not want to bike to school every day in fear

of some smoker releasing death so near

Every day, I cough; I hold my breath; I glare

However, I can not do anything but stare

at that person walking by who has no respect for other peoples lives

and just keeps blowing out that wicked gray that causes innocents to die

As a singer, I want to preserve my voice—

not be forced to inhale poison without a choice

So, once again I ask of you, no, I demand of you:

stop smoking, or at least go do it alone in your room