I like paper mache trees
They're beautiful 
I like the whole idea behind them 
Taking something of no importance and creating something 
something artistic
something someone would look at and appreciate without acknowledging its journey
Because all it will ever be is just a 'decorated piece of artwork'
famed by many because of its beauty 
No acknowlegment of how it got there
No acknowledgement of what was used
No acknowledgement of even who made it
Just a simple glorified piece of artwork
That kind of sounds like life doesn't it?

How life glorifies the ones that are defined as being 'perfect' 
As if there is no other syllable or noun in the oxford dictionary 
that can define a person other than saying 
She's perfect, he's goodlooking, she's hot 
As if we're little paper mache trees lined up in tills just in time for christmas
Because our self worth will only ever be measured  by our outward appearance 
As if an unplanned disaster while making the plaster 
instantaneously makes  a whole cycle of 'unwanted' rejects
Like our life choices and mistakes instantly determine who we are 
and not who we became 
because people never stick around to listen to the boring old  story 
We're judged based on what we see in the mirror 
not what's inside it
 that scar that takes up most of her right cheek 
from an epic night of adventure with friends
that left her with more than what she anticipated
but with memories that'll will last for decades
gets stares because it looks like tiny specks of ugliness 
on expensive china

We are beautiful souls
Little paper mache trees, roots branching out into the world
Telling the stories no one ever wants to hear 
Because fuck it!
Our stories were meant to be heard 
Our stories were  meant to last for generations 
Our stories were meant to be revolutionary
Our stories weren't meant to be locked up in caskets
because of people who simply can't understand the  significance
Of having someone who is more than their outward appearance 
Someone who doesn't stress about how many people
will judge them because of their unblended makeup
their acne scars
their emotional 'imbalance' as they like to call it

We are gorgeous 
We are alive 
48000 beats of life run through us every hour
for us to say ' I've had enough'
As if the random stranger you only passed yesterday 
Can dictate how you live your life because of the rude remark 
he haphazardly made as he passed by 
As you pretended to not acknowledge it
but cried the first minute  you got home

We echo life and light when we walk into the world 
even when we've been drowning in our own darkness
We manage to fake smiles even when we're 
on the last straw
Isn't that bravery?
To always face the world with bright eyes 
When our inner flames blew out long ago 
Isn't it bravery?
When we smile at someone
that clearly looks like they
Are planning to jump 
off the next bridge 
because they clearly can't stand the pressure of being stuck between
being yourself and being what the world wants you to be

Our imperfections tell stories that always make us
appreciate waking up everyday to the beautiful sun or cloudy skies 
We are intelligent, magnificient and loving  pieces of art 
Detailed with all our scars and bruises
Branching to every part of our bodies
Telling stories in terms of poetry
We are gorgeous human beings
Just  waiting to be heard