Stressed About Nothing.

I read a book today
It made no sense
I puzzled over it forever

It said on this page here
'Make yourself beautiful'
How is that even possible?

The world itself is a beauty
Why would that be contained in a page?
That doesn't make any sense

Oh, so it's telling me if I put THIS on I'll be pretty?
All that does is color my face really
How does that make a change?

Wait, why am I even trying to look like these magazine chicks?
I never could even if I wanted to
That's them and this is me

Right so really all this is doing is taking up a tree
Well good for it
Next page now here we go

Really all that's meant in this poem
Is that nothing is beautiful in the world at all
Just like nothing is ever ugly in the world at all
It's all personalized

You are you whether you like it or not
Don't let the words in a magazine make you different
Instead, read a book or something

Don't worry about what all the haters say
Soon they'll be dead anyways
Might as well not let them get you down

Beautiful and Ugly are just words
Just like the over-used thousands of words
We use to describe someone's face

A face is a face
It has skin on it to touch
It has two eyes to see
It has a nose to smell
It has eyelashes
It most of the time has eyebrows
It can get acne
It has lips to taste with
It has cheeks that blush
And it's supported by a chin

That's all beauty is. Nothing at all.
That's all ugly is. Nothing at all
What is everyone so stressed about?