Beauty-a slam poem

You see me, but you don't see me.
What you see with your eyes means nothing
because beauty lies
lies underneath a microscope, makeup can hide blemishes of the skin
surgery can fix a nose or double chin
but it cannot fix an ugly soul.
Beauty, they say, lies in the eye of the beholder
but nothing I'm being or holding matches
those magazine starlets
glossy picture queens
who let themselves be air-brushed
tucked, snipped and pulled
as six year old girls see themselves as ugly
and pine, for a body no real person can have
and buy, things they don't need to look like someone else
because they think that they are not beautiful
they need to be someone else
to be enough.
Enough!
Enough of the lies, lyin about beauty
and the pain of not having
and the crying
and the cutting
and the eating
and the not-eating
counting every calorie and gram of gum
and deciding it isn't worth it
because no one wants to fuck someone like that
someone who is fat.
Fuck it!
All of this for beauty
all of this misinformation, exaggeration, trepidation.
Beauty is a construct, baby
and they'll make you feel good about yourself
for five easy payments
of self-esteem.