I would change myself

my hair, my face, my life-

Or try to at least

 

Shoot for perfection

when perfection is warped and pretend.

The clown mirror hangs, glaring at me

 

Taunting me,

making me squat

distorting my face.

 

How am I beautiful?

The magazines show skin

so I must too

 

The God I know says,

"I made you in MY

image."

 

I am Eve in the garden,

hiding with shame.

I don't always believe Him.

 

I wish I could change the shame;

in me, in girls, in boys, in people everywhere

And say God made you

 

to love

and to live

and to be far from perfect-

 

at least in society's eyes.