Untitled by: Amara Jaime, Acrylic on Canvas, 2017
Ready, Set, Shoot
I wear a smile as fake as your eyebrows.
Everyday you wear pink
And so do I, but I wear it splattered on my face
It’s the sunken bags under my eyes.
Desiccated from the long hours I stay awake whispering to the moon
The only one who will quietly listen to me rant and rage.
Raw, around my half-torn fingernails
from gnawing at them like it’s my last secret to tell.
A sin, like you sin
with your head clouded with judgments, slander
You say, he says, she says, they say
But I say stop.
You cannot take my every insecurity
And deem them flaws, putting
them on display for all to see.
Feeding that thirst which is your ego
Never, can you pick my brain for your entertainment
Plucking away at every part of me not to your liking,
Now you see, words are a war on the soul
Mine like green little army men
But your words are terrorist
With an arsenal overflowing
Each one loaded and ready to destroy me
Ready to strike at a single hint of self-acceptance