You sit in your little box of
Manufactured perfection
Defined by the makeup
Weighing down your smile
And you feed off only the joy
I can hand you because
Judgment is all that's inside your
Little box
And the only thing you can see from there
is the ladies in the
Department store telling you
Lies about how that shirt
"Brings out your eyes"
When really, that shirt covers half
Of your torso and no man will be
Looking at your eyes.
Though even if there is a
gentleman left out there he couldn't see
How gorgeous your eyes actually are
because the war paint the employee
calls eye shadow disguises your eyes.
And yet every morning you wake up,
Put on your war paint,
But grab no weapons.
All it takes is
Just a few words and a hand mirror
To shove a little girl into a box
And destroy whatever chance she had at
being able to find her own joy
But somehow she'll call you her best friend!
She'll thank you for allowing her a spot on your side,
She'll wear your war paint
And ruin another innocent girl
By telling her love is
Only related to the eye
By telling her joy
Is in every $50 dollar bottle of perfume she buys
By telling her beauty is having a
Three inch gap between her thighs,
That way she can fit into the
box you say is specially for her.
And now in your sky scraper heels
You come strutting towards me
You can fake your smile with your blinding white teeth,
you can reach to pull me in with your perfect manicures,
and say anything you want in your high voices.
But I will not fall.
I am so much stronger than you,
Because I've climbed out of
Your boxes before.

I will tell you over, and over!
You can't manufacture joy,
You can't manufacture love,
And you can't ever manufacture me again.
Nobody can see how beautiful you
Truly are Inside that
Judgmental
Tiny box
Of manufactured perfection