Behind the Filter

The image of perfection

is engraved into my mind like a splinter

makeup, contacts, filters.

Diets, brands, all artificial.

I'm bitter.

Bitter with the reality

We aren't taught to be ourselves,

but instead to hide ourselves

In actuality.

 

What am I without this mask?

How do I look with no filter?

I've been meaning to ask,

Who am I, when I remove this splinter?

 

I am small and plain.

My spirit runs free,

like my mind does.

Free thinking.

Old soul.

Big dreams,

in a small world.

 

I am a wanderer,

behind the tree of social media.

Always smiling,

always hiding.

 

Why I hide, in a mere picture,

I surely can explain.

I don't hide because i'm insecure,

nor because I am afraid.

I hide my imperfections,

to prevent these things from happening.

 

I am small and plain.

My soul runs free.

I remove these filters

and let the world see me.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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