The images flashing across TV screens,

And the edited bodies plastered through magazines,

Do little else,

But to create,

This scene...

The soaring expectations, 

Set by models and industry,

Keep people from flying, 

Like a kite in a tree.

Trapped by society, 

And the standards it sets,

Builds a world full of plastic, 

And the faker it gets.

Lined with blonde Barbies,

Are the Toys-R-Us cases,

With painted smiles, blue eyes

And above all clear faces.

They're FLAWLESS!

It's true. How can I even compete!?

I'm short and I'm pale,

And my bones have some meat.

I'm far from perfect,

And accept this as true,

And it's that realization,

That can make all things new...

My flaws make me perfect.

And though not easy to see,

It's a perfectly good step,

Towards me accepting me.