No Filter


A picture tells a thousands words, 

but can you read the emotions behind each smile?

Can you hear the hardships that their eyes express?

My wide bright eyes that seem to shine like the sun turn to dark clouds of gray.

A flawless complexion that once showed no stress suddenly shows the wrath of age. 

A filter can help the way one looks,

but can it help the way you feel?

Looking at a photo can anyone know my history? Can they know the pain behind the peace sign I weild on my hand?

Behind the filter, on those soft white shoulders, are the years of stress that I've sheltered, my shoulders are where that anxiety has cultivated and claimed as a home.

Dimples that once held up a hopeful promise that everything is fine,  now hide behind a black and white portrait of lies. 

Pictures that hide our insecurities, a nation developed by photoshop, no one is genuine.

The fact that I think my cheeks are too chubby; it's an easy fix, an easy angle to redfine my edges. 

A young me who used to not give a damn in the world would be ashamed at the way I manipulate, I shapen, and "improve" my appearance.

All for what?

A few likes on a photo, that's all it takes to start a revolution of inadequacy.

A smile that once harbored dreams,

that now hides behind an array of different colors. 

This poem is about: 


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