Like A Sheet Of Paper

I know,

 

That when we are born,

We are blank.

Like a sheet of paper,

Something yet to be written on,

Or to be sketched on,

Colored On…something

We are all different

However,

Life, writes us

Our story.

How we will look.

For say,

They give us freckles at birth.

There is either a lot of them

Or barely any at all.

Or, stretch marks….

Why do most people judge

Other people who

Have them? Cause

Guess what…?

It’s not their fault.

It’s not their fault

If they are

Either made

Thick, or thin…

Or use the terms

Fat or skinny…

Old or young

Big or Tall

Even your skin color

It doesn’t matter.

Or your eye color…

There’s,

Blue, Green, Hazel,

Brown, Black, even Gray.

Even many more colors…

Because no

Matter what we’re given

We still see ourselves as

Imperfections….

Did you know that

For say Models in general

Starve themselves to

Make themselves look

Even skinnier?

Or how about that the

Fashion world is

Always a season

Ahead…?

Because the

Way it

Works there

Is,

In with one

Out with the next…

That’s the way it seems with the modern

World right now…

People give up on others

On the way they look…

The don’t

Really care

About them…

Just themselves

Not that the

Thing really

Is a person

Because in

The end

We all

Seem

To,

Vanish.

………

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