Surgeon

Why is it like this?
When I was younger
It didn’t matter this much
But now
My worth is determined
By a set of ideals
The poorest among us won’t know

Should I be
My own surgeon?
Should I take a knife
To the parts I don’t like?
And then bleed
These incisions
Of the misery, and the jealousy?

My worth is a number
The flickering scale
And the clothes on the rail
And it seems
All those young girls around me
Are comparing each other
And I’m under their scrutiny

Should I be
Recreating
The image of what
Was good at the start
When I know
Deep down
I could be contented as me
So long as no one could see

So now I’m disgusted
By the way that I think
And what it leads me to see
My view is obstructed
From a much greater need
The people around me in pain

Should I be my own surgeon?
Should I take a knife
To the parts I don’t like?
When I know
Deep down
I could be contented as me
So long as no one could see

© 2009 Caryl Sumner

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