She tells us to express our individuality and to wear whatever clothes we want,

but then says when we do that no those don't go together.

She tells us that we don't need make up, that we are beautiful just the way we are,

but then says a little foundation won't hurt.

She tells us that we should be comfortable in our own bodies,

but then says I can see the cellulite through those shorts.

She is a cold hearted teen shaped by our perceptions of what the perfect girl should be.

SHE is the blue eyed, blonde head cheerleader,

and we are the brown eyed brunette nerd sitting in the sidelines.

She forces us to step from our sanctuary to become something "acceptable" and tangible.

Society is the proprietor of our minds. She controls the branches of our trees,

she has caused our chard limbs to break, yet we are a product of her.

Molded to the point of no return. She has a tight grip on us, and refuses to let go.

Yet, at the same time do we really want to let go.

We molder her, constructed her. A wise man once told me if it can be constructed than it can be deconstructed.