Portrait Day

On portrait day

They stuff you into that dress

Navy blue with red stitching

Like delicate wounds -

And that white collar

Choking a chubby neck

Over which messy

Blonde curls tumble;

Like you -

Never knowing their place.

Unaware of yourself,

This bundle of flaws,

You drift

Down drab, screeching corridors

To sit before a

Pastel-from-hell backdrop

For the photographer, a

Corduroy horror-show of

Slapstick jabs.

A camera flash and

You crumple your face

Into a smile, not quite foreign

As forlorn thoughts

Have yet to strike.
Patience... as

Strange laughter rolls past your

Ears like lilting wind

And you are forever captured

In a frame.

Developed photos spark

Enveloping self-consciousness

Soon to fit like a glove

Through adolescent throes

Of self-loathing and

Media’s cliched hate.

Then in control of being

Out of control

With your own destruction,

Self-worth disintegrates

And it hits. It hits. It hits:

You’re unlovable.

Body, face, personality,

Mind.

Heart?

In the midst of self-hatred,

Be sure to achieve.

Be sure to smile

Whether you are lonely or not

As you

Languish gleefully under

Rapid-fire questions

About “who you are” that

Rifle through your personal life

Without anyone ever really asking,

“Who you are.”

So you retreat within yourself

And...

After all these years

You shelve what you were told.

But misinformation

Collects dust like old books;

You cannot fully escape.

Yet one day, the rain will

Fall a certain way,

Or a glance will catch your eye;

Untamed,

You’ll wander; you’ll stray;

And realize...

You never had to live a one-way life.

Well, you’ll wonder:

If no one ever told you what you wanted,

Would you still know what you want?