Perfection. Poem by Felicity moore

Skinny legs, bigger breasts,
Is all they want to see.
Tiny waists and thinner arms,
The oppostie of me.

The pressure to be perfect
Is slowly closing in.
And utter suffocation
That doesnt seem to end.

Society is telling me
Beautiful is thin.
And if i choose to starve myself
Perfection's what I win.

Shoving something down my throat,
will get me what I want.
Bring me closer to that goal
Of a body I can flaunt.

Society is telling us
Beatuy is a prize,
Measured in the size of your breasts
In weight and clothing size.

But let me tell you here and now
No good will come of that
It seems ok at first
But soon becomes a trap.

A disease that clouds the mind
And believes what is untrue.
Believes you're never good enough,
No matter what you do.

There is one beauty that I know,
Its the greatest prize of all.
Its learning to accept yourself
Imperfections, flaws, and all

The beauty that really matters
Lies in our heart, our soul, our core.
Because when you love what's inside
You love what's outside even more.

(I didnt write this and I dont no who did. but i really like it)