563 photos more or less of my face,

Each and everyone filtered,

Straight on,

Sideways,

Tilted,

Smiling,

Frowning,

Intense,

Laughing…

A mask placed perfectly over the shattered girl below,

A mask built of exceedingly shallow words from fellow people;

A mask built not of my own,

But the mask of decomposed dreams.

Wiped from recognition, I become anew.                    

People shout beauty is only skin deep.

But they turn their backs on the thought of someone less than them

My head confused by my love for myself,

Or the love for society’s standards.

Self worth,

Something foreign in my dictionary

Conformity slamming against thoughts

Dropping the façade

A new dawn of love builds within

As so many role models accept their skin

Judgmental, yes

But accepting is best.

Freckles,

Dark circles,

Hazel eyes,

Pimples,

Pink lips,

Short lashes.

I am fifty, fifty

But my fifty, fifty

Makes me a hundred.