Thu, 03/05/2015 - 18:03 -- bNh015


Vintage, Vignette,

All of these aesthetic filters.

But nothing is nearly as attractive

As the original.


For it's a tough job to do,

To mask the truth.

But the truth will reveal itself.

And expose the bona fide you. 


True authenticity cannot be replaced

By enumerating artificial detail.

The hue, the contrast, they are all the same.

They imprison the view in jail.


So what if you have a bruise or a bump,

Or braces or a flat rump,

My set of binoculars see

You are beautiful no matter what. 


Like Cinderella and her ballroom gown.

Like Elsa in her frozen town.

You are a princess and a queen.

Obvious exquisiteness appears inside and out.


Let this marinate in your brain.

Then I want you to ask yourself,

Why cover your real identity?

It's just too much work.


Knowing filters are the make-up of phonies,

How can you follow through with the changing,

Knowing you have to go through all the trouble of auto-adjusting?


This poem is about: 
Our world


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