Beauty
McKenzie Curtis
I ate beauty and it left me starving.
I inhaled the toxic smog like it was oxygen and became surprised whenI wheezed.
My own hands molded and prodded my soul for relatability.
I picked at the scabs on the verge of healing ‘till they bled and found guilty satisfaction.
I ate beauty, spoon-fed to me as a child,
the “choo-choo train” coming to fill my small belly
with ideals of straight hair, pale skin, curvy figures, and blind obedience.
It gave me the nourishment of insecurity
and the hunger for people’s approval.
But now I spit it out and let the years of waste exit my body.
This process is painful as I let everything buried deep beneath my skin
ooze out my pores.
But now my soul is clean and intentions are pristine.
Now instead of tasting the bittersweet shallowness of beauty standards,
I fill my belly with sweet affirmations and breathe in gratitude and exhale greatness.
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