Plastic

Believe it, because it's true.

Obsessive idealizations of beauty leave a collective of the public desensitized
Through the manifesto of fashion magazines:
Skinny jeans covering their skinny thighs
Highly spoken of considerations leave us all so baffled
By the artificial inseminations, a corporate disguise
In the principled jesus that has left these models baptized

You’d think we’d be past this standard by now
Because when I think of real men,
I don’t think of beefcakes
Meatheads,
No words of wit
I don’t imagine a Calvin Klein billboard
Or a steamy scene featuring Academy Award nominated actor Brad Pitt

And when I think of real women,
I don’t think of skeletal rag dolls in undersized dresses carrying oversized bags
Taking sips of star bucks with bandanas and bony remains puffing their last cigarette drags
Emancipated trash wearing overexposed brand names and tags
Dead-eyed and sickly

Where’s my place in this egomaniac? Can I not blend?
Do my big black rimmed glasses not fit in?
If someone famous or beautiful is seen wearing them, they’ll be the new trend

On the bottom of my skin’s palest sores,
Being described
My clothes could be, my air could be,
But I refuse to breathe alongside these crazed and wasted, malnourished bins and w****s
And you shouldn’t either…
It’s just too boring

Author's Note

Something I hold firm beliefs in and decided to write down.