A poem by Hope Cordes, Writer
The ideal body
Perpetuated by sultry ads and plastic
A reminder that she missed the mark
But what is the mark?
Is it attainable?
What else does she have to fix before she meets it?
Flat stomach, but not a flat chest
Curves, but no cellulite
Skinny, but try not to have an eating disorder
She spirals
Juggling the prerequisites
Hyper aware of her flaws
But her legs walk her down shores
Her arms embrace her mom
Her stomach is home to happy butterflies
The scrutiny never stops
It’s not worth her time
She is the mark.
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