
Perfect poise in an imperfect frame,
where realities lounge in
blurred boundaries
of fashion's campaigned falsities
For flawless beauty in airbrushed
tones betray naïve insecurities
and twist wellbeing
in striving after the unobtainable
Stripped bare of layers, lighting
and painted portrayals,
the butterfly fades to a
colourless moth of misrepresentation
And those who foolishly devote
diligence to the propaganda
find themselves empty vessels
when the image
finally shatters



. Your soft use of alliteration works really well in this poem. I love this; it's a great poem on the perils of relying only on beauty, and the poor girls, who are tossed aside when the newest, freshest face, and youngest face replaces them.
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70 old applause, 3 applause
