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You consider yourself average on a good day, somewhat pretty on a whimsical day, and downright atrocious on a bad day. Your hair can’t decide to be straight or curly. Your eyes are either luminous or dreary. Your nose…too big. Lips…to small. Nothing looks right at all. You're too fat. You're too skinny. You're all the wrong curves. You're all skin and bones. The mirror on the wall reflects Your self-conscious thoughts shoving Photoshopped Beauty Queens down your throat, And in your mind. That's why you look at others And discriminate and envy. That's why you throw up in the bathroom And buy over priced clothes to fit in. And sink into the background. You have to be the perfect size two. Or you'll hear the taunts of magazines, Claiming you're nothing. Pressuring you to be something your not. Keeping you awake at night with tears. Breaking you into a million pieces. That's why you avoid looking at your reflection. That’s why we have doctors. Doctors to cure the horrible genes inflicted on you. Doctors that can construct an artificial being, made out of your lack of self-confidence, and belief in self-mutilation. Doctors that say they can make you beautiful. Claiming that you aren’t beautiful now. But you let them… You let them call you ugly. Let them plaster your face with assurances, and guarantees. In order to make you beautiful. They cut your face. Remake something that was already good, Into something worse. Doctors that give you a lie. Doctors that pledge to fix something when they mean to break it. Trying to pick you up and create something else. Someone who isn't you. They say you are ugly. You aren’t pretty. No, you definitely are not pretty. You’re beautiful. Instead piece yourself back together. Brush away the pressure. Stop throwing up. Don't max your credit cards. Look yourself in the eye. Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who's the fairest of them all? You.