We're all just somebody,
trying to find somebody.
A body within a body.
Creating something from within,
Something more to what's projected outside.
Something more than what they dictate you to be.
They place identities,
They make me, who they want me to be.
I can't let them identify me,
as the girl who took on the role,
as the girl who gave up her soul,
to pursue fallacious promises
publicized by the glamour of mannequins
Of woman with shapely figures,
and skin like silk,
drenched in chemical waste.
At the end of the day it's all about the creation,
of a face,
of a body,
of a being.
Send me a letter, noted with an "F"
For the day I can be myself,
and be free...
in a world morphed by society.
Written: Arlana Panduleni Shikongo
Take a trip inside my mind as I share timely insights, musings, and perspectives on life, love, and everything in between.
13 February 2012
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