Visions

So many clouded visions of perfection,
What does it even mean?
Minds bombarded with an image,
Seen only in a dream.

Movies show us actors,
Perfect faces to fit perfect bodies.
Appearences mean everything,
Brains don't get you far.

Girls with fake boobs and eating disorders,
Dream of being stars.
The only way to reach their goal,
Denying who they are.

Boys who talk like thugs,
Think drugs are the coolest thing.
Not knowing when to stop the act,
Dying over money.

All that's seen as perfection,
The corruption of an imperfect world.
Fighting fills the class rooms,
Shouting fills the halls.

Looking in the mirror,
Searching for perfection.
I see a free thinker,
A geek by all accounts.

Staying away from drugs and sex,
Hiding from the crowds.
In the mirror I see the answer,
Perfection isn't there.

Well, what did you think? The idea for this poem came to me while I was watching commercials during Daria on "the-n" which I found by channel surfing. I realized that the only people you see on T.V. are people who look fake...then everyone copies them saying "oh that person's on T.V. I need to look like that if I ever want to be famous." To me that's just showing your own stupidity. Anyways I hope no one was offended by this or anything...it's just me and my opinion. ~Frozen Midnight~