Make Up

A Poem by Elegant Imperfections

Spoken Word Poem about beauty and the worth of women

Make up. It's been telling girls our whole lives that we need to strive to be found beautiful.

Wake up. This isn't just a game there's more than sex and fame on the line here, there's souls.

Desperately crying out. Hoping that we don't drown in our make up. Looking like a clown and trying to be found worthy

of some kind of affection. We've been given a projection of perfection but what we need is the protection of men.

Of fathers who will reach out to their daughters. Of brothers who will start putting others before themselves.

Of husbands who will consider their wedding bands a commitment for life.

We're so tired of all this strife and yet we keep on breathing. And the media is leaving us with nothing but broken promises

it harnesses the light inside our souls, manipulates it to power their goals and leaves holes in our hearts.

It starts with the foundation. An innocent young girl with her dress and pretty curls comes to daddy and she twirls.

Am I pretty daddy? She asks, often without words but the question could be heard if he'd only listen.

But he's missing his cue. With a simple "that's cute" he carries on. With his business and his plans but his answer lands differently upon her heart.

"I don't have time for you" is what she hears for days upon days for years upon years.

So she starts to believe that it's better to leave yourself at the door. Don't ask if there's more or you're suddenly a w***e.

The breakdown here is that it wasn't made clear in fact nothing was.

Because to be transparent is to be a bad parent cause all grown ups are inherently perfect.

Is that lie even worth it? It must be because he bought into it. Thinking he had to provide for a really sweet ride or the day she's a bride

but no amount of foundation can hide that she's dying inside and all she wants is love.

For him to put down his smart phone and say you're enough. But she receives the opposite.

Thinking once she has an office, it will make her worth something. And it's not all his fault.

He's just another adult lost in the cult called culture that preys on souls like a vulture.

It broke him too. So what could he do but inadvertently break you?

So on to the mascara. We're in a dark era of climbing a Sierra only to end up in the Sahara

and all we want is to be seen. So we either make a scene or get lost in between the pictures on the screen and the fact that we're unclean compared to them.

We've got blood on our hands and we're sinking in the sands that everyone else stands on and no one understands us or so we think.

We look pretty in pink but we're really on the brink of self hatred.

Because we left what was sacred for the picture that was painted of sweet things to be tasted.

Feeling wasted is not what we awaited but it's what we got.

Because we never forgot of the days of being told to just withhold all our inward gold because of the mold that might accompany it.

So we search for someone who knows what we've done to not point a gun or turn and run but we haven't begun to reveal ourselves.

So we search to be known but we've never shown the heart we own so of course we're alone.

On to the lipstick. Searching for love quick we lay brick after brick on our cracked foundation.

Our broken nation is it's own creation with this false revelation that temptation is nothing more than the translation of our location but what we need is salvation.

Yet we run. To all our broken lovers. Running from the darkness that hovers and the shame that covers us it smothers us with it's lies.

No one will ever love you. You know what you have to do.

How much you are worth is dependent on how well you work.

You are an object to be lusted after. You don't get a happily ever after.

You'll just keep repeating the same old chapter and you'll never be able to drown out their laughter.

You're pathetic without your cosmetics. It's in your genetics.

This is the aesthetic you've come to believe.

So it's no surprise that you wear a disguise for this culture implies through it's beauty supplies that you need to dispose yourself and compromise. And you believe these lies.

Onto the blush. We take our brush and apply the lush color to our cheeks but even that reeks of the dripping leaks at the very peaks of our being.

Because we wouldn't need to add color if we hadn't already covered the natural beauty that we refuse to see.

We were born with it. A pink in our cheeks and a light in our eyes but we've covered it up with the darkness and lies that the culture has sent to advise us to depend on their beauty supplies and we do.

We don't know what's true so we say our adieu to the days that we flew and make our debut at the world's biggest zoo called the runway.