hey.
hey.
don't those unsightly bulges
acne craters
stitched scars
crooked teeth
wiggly arms
fresh wrinkles
and the rest
of the bundle of imperfections
staring right at you
bother you,
even a little?
it was that voice
again.
around
(inside?)
imagined
(real?)
familiar
(unwelcome?)
reminding you
that the only way to be happy
is
to look like someone else.
(because you just HAD to be born
without meeting the requirements
of being the posterchild
of agencies
of plasticity)
seeking continuous modifications
and constant medications
to satisfy our inhibitions
with acts of retaliation
towards our natural condition
because we follow the tradition
of idolising physical beautification
rather than spiritual purification
to appreciate the realisation
that this unfortunate transition
entirely depends on our decision:
to live
being
an imperfect truth,
or
to die
being
a perfect lie.
- Jan 28th '13
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