Ugly – Poem by Madison Ramsey

I never once worried about what I looked like in kindergarten, I never even thought about it until maybe the sixth grade

I had the worst fashion taste imaginable, but it didn’t matter to me

I had not one care in the world over what anyone else thought about my mismatched prints

I only wore what was comfortable to me

In the fifth grade I gave blue eyeshadow a try, while that was a mistake, it did not matter

My yearbook photo may have been one of the most atrocious I have ever laid eyes on

But now I don’t even take them

I no longer want to be remembered

Or embarrassed of the things I may later regret

At what age did we begin to care so much that we stopped living?

So afraid of what others think

 We hide behind a false image of what we think should make us happy

We do things just to seek the approval of others, but why do any of them matter?

Marilyn Monroe once said “Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.”

The desire to be immaculate is overwhelming

The pressure is like a ship caught in a storm

Becoming engulfed in a torrent of waves

The true meaning is lost and drowning seems inevitable

But the word imperfect is not as scary as believed

The only meaning that matters to most of us is the one that says you are not perfect, faulty or incomplete.

We feel so much pain in that word

An aching in your chest so great that you fall

A flower weighed down by dozens of raindrops

We are all incomplete

Works in progress

Paintings that take years to develop

Revealing their beauty within time

Evolving constantly

I am not the same person I was six months ago

A butterfly only emerges from its cocoon once

Beautifully different with bright colors and the ability to fly

But we do it many times

There is no limit to the amount we can change

A fading sky with radiant colors

Is not the same the next day

True perfection does not exist in nature

Imperfection is found in everything

The prettiest rose has petals that are different sizes

Trees shed their leaves and are bare for months at a time

Even the sky itself turns gray

But we don’t consider these things to be ugly

We are our own worst critics

Taking years of what others have said

Weaving the harsh words together

In our minds

Creating the image that we see in the mirror

Shattering fractured hearts

But the truth is, if we saw ourselves in passing

On the street

We wouldn’t recognized who we saw

The image we have of what we look like

Is more distorted than an image through a kaleidoscope

Comparing yourself to other people

Hiding yourself away

Is a waste of who you are

And who you could be

So why does loving ourselves have to be so hard?

-By Madison Ramsey,  Virginia

Lewiston Writers' Group  For More About the Lewiston Writers’ Group, CLICK HERE

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