Splatters of Poetry

it's over.

Hello Society. How are you this fine morning, my darling? You with your new Polo jeans and your fat-free latte from Starbucks? No, not how are you; how am I? Is my hair okay, Society? What about my out-fit? I mean, what one wears is supposed to make a statement, right? At least, that's what you always said. What does this out-fit say about me? Does it say I'm too liberal? Too conservative? Does it say I shop at that GAP?

Society, do you think I'm beautiful?
Because I just have this feeling...

I have this feeling that more expensive hair gel will not make me a happier person. I have a feeling that maybe even super models have pores, and that there might be more to life than your Jenny Craig and your Cosmopolitan.

Have you been keeping something from me?

Society, does this make me look fat? Does anything make me look fat? It does doesn't it? I KNOW YOU THINK I LOOK FAT, SOCIETY! WHY DON'T YOU JUST SAY IT?!?
I'm sick of all your euphemisms!
No. Don't apologize.
Don't tell me I'm my own person- I'm not. I'm you. I am one more carbon copy of everything you wanted me to be.

Don't lie to me, Society. I know the truth.

I know all your shiny models in the tooth-paste ads are really just ordinary people who sometimes have bad breath and don't always feel like smiling. I've had it this time. Enough's enough. Stop trying to buy my love with flowers and mocha breeze flavoured lipstick. What does Mocha Breeze mean, anyway?

I don't know, Society...I don't think this is going to work out.

posted by Erin @ 2:58 PM