Lost Ones

She turns from side to side in the mirror As she critiques her body Comparing it to the fashionista standard size 2 So far she’s found at least 6 imperfections Blaming it on the food that she ate She knows somehow this doesn’t add up Because her body needs nourishment, but she needs compliments and encouragements So she stares Into the mirror fixated on her outer appearance but her confidence is stuck People see her as a Mercedes but somehow she sees a diesel truck Unable to digest the preeminent issue that she is dangerously gaining all of her self-confidence From women who look as if every day in their life they have observed lent So she stares At times she tries to come to grips with the reality of who she is saying “I’ll change my thinking completely, but first let me take this selfie” Self-medicating that emptiness with images of a counterfeit being Erroneously perpetuating feeble attempts to win the game called opinion Disregarding the good thoughts of the one who created her and has total dominion Knocking over the first domino of time eons ago The one who saw and created her in the spirit when she was a physical no-show She shows no regard for the truth because her real self is hidden deep like golden Easter eggs As she continues these same futile attempts of finding herself using PNG and JPEGS. Then she met he He, just as lost as she Would be the lucky one to dish those affirmations Which graciously slide through her mind like a perfectly thrown frisbee He knew what to say, how and when to say it Complimenting her, but He had other intentions She, oblivious to the sexual agenda of this wannabe man Had succumbed to his poison spewing from the saliva in his glands He used to spit his game Game she received like dry grass receives the summer rain He knew all along it was lame, but it worked Because he grew up with this saying that if you don’t stand for something you’ll fall for anything And she unable to stand up against the fallacious expectations of the world Fell into being his girl. Friend. Lover. Side-chick. Baby momma. Fiancé. Ex. Sidepiece. One night stand This was not God’s plan Yet neither one will understand Until their eyes are opened not by man, but by the truth they will continue to accept the world’s reproof Sitting in life’s dunking booth Until the target is struck by a different ball of trends They are submerged into the water only to arise aloof baptized in their folly and lost.