The harshest light is the one,

we choose to use to see.


The blemish of society has become,

a billboard of tragedy.


With beauty's definition,

now warped in the minds of our youth.


I'm forced to stand in opposition,

and refuse to veil the truth.


Women prostitute their looks,

and their customers buy them dinner.


Poor Johnny, his own life he took,

For by society's standards, he was not a winner.


We place our hope in salaries,

a green filter through which we see.


A 12-year-old counts her calories,

for indulging is never free.


It comes at a cost for anything,

be careful how much you intake.


A healthy young girl (her conscience sings),

"Honey, this dress was a mistake."


A 16-year-old boy with a lanky frame,

give him some protein to grow.


Protein's not working; steroids work the same.

Society pretends not to know...

This poem is about: 
My country


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