Force-fed Standards

Purity drapes her frame as an armor to protect her disclaimed body from the hideous beings lurking and viciously plotting during the day; she too, is a blob of miniature existence and a trembling flame, eerily questioning her potential, questioning her place. Her eyes are melting with the fear of the light, the fear of greatness, the fear to fight. Quivering to the dancing shadows of demons to the rhythm of her heartbeat, her crying goes raspy and tame. The kicks and jerks of her small feet cannot do any harm, but her petite face fades into the darkness. Focusing on her last breath, she is born again. Born into a world of the unknown, confused and shaken, fallen and broken; her innocence is scrambled into the velvety dew that lingers in the night to crack her porcelain complexion and the sweetness that glistens from her eyes. Born into a world that was cruel; a senseless world that desired to gorge her orbs from their sockets and force an image of beauty that was only a bitter illusion. She was not beauty and beauty was not her; beauty is grace and she was displaced in a deception of absolutely no peace. A deception of false hope and security where there was no need to just be. Her jaw opens every meal to choke down a reality she cannot face while her ideals are misplaced and invalid, but her fight remains hungry and she will not become another laced up doll without any brains. Feeble is her physique as her mind churns rather bleak; digits are daggers, clawing up her back, tearing her flesh and removing the tenderness of her skin that was withering to the bone- craving for an end, craving for a home.

Author's Note

Ignore my grammatical mistakes and my stupidity. Thank you, it is much appreciated.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Dear Kale. A powerful poem shared.
"Born into a world of the unknown, confused and shaken, fallen and broken; her innocence is scrambled into the velvety dew that lingers in the night to crack her porcelain complexion and the sweetness that glistens from her eyes. Born into a world that was cruel; a senseless world that desired to gorge her orbs from their sockets and force an image of beauty that was only a bitter illusion."
The above lines were my favorite. Honest, cold and direct. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[barleygirl]

This is highly imaginative, descriptive, & powerful. I write with a pretty firm adherence to form, but I would kill to be able to write with such delightfully spontaneous abandon, as this is written. Don't ever let anyone force their OCD on you. Just stay free & intense & fighting your right to express yourself with whatever style you choose!!!! (((HUGS)))

(I can't wait until you realize your own worth in writing, so that you can drop the demeaning commentary about your writing in comments & in your profile.

[Lyn Anderson]

This prose neither requires correcting nor change of form -- it certainly should not be ignored. To elegantly string these thoughts together in a coherent manner that flows beautifully is a special skill. There is no stupidity here. This is a very eloquent piece that speaks to the heart of a troubled child living inside a person who feels broken, but is not. And you don't know me. But I always correct mistakes, and I rarely leave more than a sentence on even my favourite poems. An honour to read your work.

[Chrys Marie]

That's some really gorgeous prose right there. A great portrait of girls in the present being forced to conform to standards. This should get more views.

[Nessly]

Despite lack of form, there's some beautiful imagery here. There's great potential for this piece.

[-]

I like the anger behind it. I love the line that says " force an image of beauty that was only a bitter illusion" I love it because it is so true. We get this so call beauty from the media and then their is an inner struggle in us trying to be happy with ourselves and living up to the standards as you said which has been force feed. Thanks for sharing and standing up to the norms. N. " for the beauty that is you"-Elena Lincoln.