A peep within

A woman am I rarely anything alike,

Clothing comfortable I choose as my type.

Cringes me those bags and shoes hype,

None of these ever my spirit strike.

Layers of creams and colors despise.

For these present a ghastly view,

As though Creator’s work in review.

A representation of what hearts comprise,

Unable to face reality in it’s true sense,

We gloze our tongues with sweetness intense.

Under layers of pretension lies buried,

Actual self in a state crumbled.

Scribbled and discarded,

In a trash bin disposed.