The Image We See poetry by Ashley Pentycofe
The Image I see
I stand here in front of the mirror staring
Judging, measuring, cruel and uncaring
Dressed up for my date
Criticizing my every imperfection
My face covered with hate
Why can I be perfect?
My body is all a wreck
Bra fits too tight
Nose a little too wide
I have to wear glasses help my sight
Ugh! Adjust my shirt with a sigh
Then there’s the dreaded knock at the door!
I step back and eye myself once more
Still unhappy with my figure and feeling hopeless
Maybe this date is totally bogus
Slowly I open the door
He takes one look and his jaw hits the floor
I smile and think “Maybe he’s a keeper”
And he’s better looking than that last cheater!
Ashley Pentycofe 04/18/2010
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