Perfection, clear to the beholders eye,

At times, going no further,

Stopping skin deep, superficial.

A smear of makeup, of blush, of rouge,

Lipstick strewn with clown-like abandon,

A caricature of what others see.

Every reflection,

Distorted by fun-house mirrors,

Diffusing into an abomination.

Painted by marketing’s ideal,

Airbrushed, made-up, impeccability,

Attempts to compete are fruitless.

Challenging imagination is no competition,

You my love have already won.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~