This poem deviates slightly from the suggested topic explaining, instead, the psychological state of adolescents and women in this day and age who aspire to a level of perfection that doesn't exist and how the failed attempt to do so leads to a feeling of inferiority. Please enjoy.

First I put green on my face.

Because my cheeks are too red.

At least that’s what someone once said

And something that de-puffs and lightens beneath my eyes

Otherwise you’ll say I “must’ve stayed up too late last night”.

Then creme that matches my skin.

Because now it’s too green.

And prime my eyes so my liner stays neat

I put two eyeshadows on

One all over, one in the crease.

Line the top with liquid black.

And black pencil underneath.

Wisk on some mascara.

Some more.

Some more.

Not long enough, never long enough.

Some more.

Some more.

Not thick enough, never thick enough.

Some more.

Lip plumper.

Some more.

Some more.

Not big enough, never big enough.

Pink lipstick.

Light hair isn’t as pretty as it seems.

Brown pencil to my eyebrow.

Shape and shade

Shape and shade

Not pretty enough, never pretty enough.

Until it’s anything but… well,

mine.

Now don’t I look so pretty?

Some more, some more.

Funny because I actually feel pretty.

Not long enough, never long enough.

Isn’t it so strange that all this is pretty?

Not thick enough, never thick enough.

And yet I know that it is petty.

Not big enough, never big enough.

I’m addicted to this face.

Shape and shade, shape and shade.

Without my mask, I’m naked.

Not pretty enough.

Without my mask, I’m ugly.

Never pretty enough.

Never pretty enough.

Never pretty enough. 

Picture attached is a collage of me as a child and me now, full face of makeup. The question posed is why the child would grow up, as many do, to believe that makeup is necessary for beauty.