It's funny. Thought you were gorgeous till you forced it.

Your knees speak of idols worshiped,

of brain wasted and now I see

how Kylie beat her way to the Forbes list--

your face was the slate, your ache was the bait, your ache on display

for a couple of clicks

you follow cosmetic characters collecting commas

off you AND ya kids

while the couture prophets leave you motion sick

tryna keep up with tomorrow's cosmo tip

while you pay off the last outfit

you maxed your credit card out with

to get chosen by a chump at the club

who wouldn't buy you lunch in the bright of day

even if he remembered your name. It's outstanding

how shallow

your life is.

Are you not more than

someone else's

pleasure and profit?

Selfie, selfie, selfish,

I mean selfie, product, selfie,

my nigga do you have

any

more

content?

Show me.

'Cause I assure you

the husband of your dreams needs

a little more

than eye candy.

Cover Photo by ian dooley on Unsplash