Deep within

There is a certain part of me

Who stills believes

Life would be so much better

If I’d been born beautiful:

A super model, a movie star

Shallow, I know,

But that part of me’s convinced

Nothing sways her

She doesn’t care that you

Can’t cherrypick and you’d get

All their shit too (and that we all have shit)

She is absolutely sure

To be adored for your looks

Would beat the rest

That being loved for a face or body

Is more than enough for her

And she won’t hear otherwise

This part of me

Would make a deal with a thousand devils

It would sell my soul

For the chance to find out

If life really is better for the super stars and models

I’ve given up trying

To win her over to Self-Love Land

She cannot comprehend adult logic

So I hold her hand

And I say “I hear you,” then lead her into the deeper waters to play

Repost Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt: famous

* I am visiting my hometown, and of course, all my “old stuff” is stirred up as if I was right back in high school, feeling so lacking. Back to a time when I based my whole self worth on my appearance. To a time I prayed to become famous so that one day everyone would regret rejecting me. It is amazing how quickly it all comes flooding back.