Mustard Stains and Messy Hair

Mustard stains & messy hair

The ideal is not often real

Boring is her reflection through the mirror 

If only the filters didn’t hold her appeal 

She smells like a barn 

Is it all a charade of who she’s not?

Flowy dress for an hour or two

Back to the extra large t-shirt 

She’s perched on the counter 

Can she stay here forever? 

And never grow up

Too many questions, her head spins

Can she fake confidence 

Until it decides to stay on its own?

Why does grace reside in her one day

Only to abandon her the next? 

Can she be both pretty & comfy? 

Both deep & funny?

Does her personality have to fit 

In a uniform box just like the rest?

A few quiz questions 

Can’t possibly sum up

The ins and outs of what makes her 

Who she is (does she even know?)

Spontaneous 

She admires from afar 

The freedom to act 

Not out of fear

Radiant joy

Will she ever claim it?

A bubble that cannot burst 

A heart-happy obnoxious laugh 

Imperfect when the trends say so

One more scroll &

Perfect is what it screams back 

A cycle contradicting raw reality 

Popularity that she once wished 

Holds no draw for her now (how could it?)

Life behind a filter is no life at all

But a romanticized expectation 

Far from real, far from real

It’s only a sunshiny mustard stain

True authenticity is missed

When she aims to be who she’s not

When will she see

That real is a thousand times 

More beautiful & genuine than 

Reality only portrayed to look real

??

Can you relate to this poem any? Comment below!

Many Blessings, 

Brooklyne Elysse