What am I to you?
Who are we to you?
Why are we to you?
We are women, yes women
women who are our own
our own,
not yours
our body, our soul, our heart
why does my body matter?
Why does it matter to you?
What is the matter with you?
I'm not picture perfect, but neither is the picture you ruined
The picture filled with tears, sorrows, and hatred
the picture of too fat or too small
or not small enough
The picture of a little girl who thought she could be the world until she realized that she was not enough
Until she realized that the snapshot of her body was a mere screenshot of a funny twitter page of what not to look like
Until she realized that her favorite picture was a rough draft of what she should be
That a mere selfie can be deathly
that the way you look is more important than the way you talk
that the way you look is more important than the way you act
that the way you look is more important than they way you are when in reality, the only reality is your personality
There was once a little girl that was born into a loving family
a family in which her beauty was not classified by how many likes she received
or how many retweets of a repeat picture, a picture that was just not her
a picture of a little girl who was not so little but cried just as much
Because she saw herself as a mere 140 characters
multiple letters that created words that did not define her true character
because she classified her beauty by comparing herself to a model on the front page of a page that denied her friend request
A page that did not classify her personality or morality when in all honesty that’s more important than your sexuality
Why are we like this?
Why MUST we be like this?
why do we feel as if we have the right to judge others to perfection
that you must be twelve pounds too light to be just right
that in order to be cool you have to be a fool
a fool that is fooled by the aquisition of being beautiful
that a young lady must look like a lady to be one
that a young lady must have more likes than friends
and friends that are only friends because they like what they see
because seeing things is more important than feeling them
because a twitter like means more than a actual like
because how many page views you have is more important than how many people you truly see
see for their intelligence and grace
not for their perfect skin and rock hard body
because their looks are all that matters. right?
because we forget they also have a heart, but truly we don’t
we think
we think that their heart is useless
that their heart is a mere organ that pumps blood to their body
that their face says it all
we live in a world where little boys know how to use facebook before they know how to tell their mother that they look beautiful
that facebook is a mere play on words
because we are taught not to judge a book by its cover
yet that is exactly what we do
because a woman's perfect body and flawless skin and sexy legs and tiny arms and giant breast but tiny waist are mere covers of who they are on the inside
yet that is what we judge
that is what they judge
and they is what you judge
It's hard to say that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”
when the beholder is holding onto perfection
Women are not perfect
We will never be perfect 
She will never be perfect
Her forehead will always be too big, her chin to pointy, her thighs too fat,
And her heart too wounded
Because she will always remember her high school life as being nothing more than a painful knife
A knife that's not only stabbed one, but one too many
A knife that is forever engraved with the names of young women
Young women who are belittled by society
Young women who should be taken care of and helped build themselves up
Because we are beautiful
Because we are life
And we hold the key to the future one imperfectly perfect little girl at a time