When they ask me why I shaved my head
I say “because I was tired of my hair”
I was tired from the experiences curled up in each lock.
Seven months later I had stories to add
So I lightened the dark pain with a lighter brown shade.
The silver hoop in my nose contributes to the edge
But my mom’s disapproving words about it almost pushed me over the ledge.
When I was younger the picture I painted of my future self was picture perfect
But sometimes when I look in the mirror I think “was all that work in my imagination worth it?”
My midsection measures a few more inches than I would like and my voice didn’t get any higher 
pitched as I transitioned into womanhood
But the men like their women’s bodies soft and think deep voices are sexy.
 I was his idea of a perfect woman but after I gave it up he couldn’t even text me.
And he keeps saying I’m so cute but where does cute get me when he has a woman at home?
The way I’m treated sometimes I feel like this world is lawless
And when I cover my face with liquid skin is the only time I’m considered flawless. 
That’s why I try to stay modest
Because I present myself as this honest, superstar beauty.
Like Aaliyah whom I aspire to be
But I know I’m not as kind.
The closest I’ll ever come to her perfection is to give off a false flawless vibe. 
If beauty is how we measure perfection then there’s no such thing
Every flaw that makes us ugly makes us pretty all the same.
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