A Broken Heart

Good Enough

It's never good enough.
Never for you.
I put an effort into the way I look,
And I do too much.
I try to be more lax,
And I don't look good enough.

Whenever I do try,
Everyone else has nothing but compliments,
But you, the most important one,
Have nothing but complaints.
Every time I feel the slightest bit good, or beautiful,
You tell me that it's too much of that it makes me unbeautiful.

It doesn't matter how many people compliment it.
Doesn't matter who else says I look good,
When you say it looks bad,
I feel that much uglier.
So why, Dad?
Why criticize when you should compliment?

It's always something.
If it's not the makeup, it's the snugness of my shirt,
Or the tightness of my pants,
Or my large appetite and little bit of fat.
A pimple here, a blemish there.
It's never good enough.

So, I'm sorry if I stopped listening to you.
Sorry if I don't pay attention to your comments.
I am me and I am perfect the way I am.
If I want to wear some makeup, I will.
If I have a blemish, so be it.
Build up, do not tear down.

_______________________
A/N: so, this is a poem that I just wrote, and it stems from a scenario that happens repeatedly at my house. My father always thinks I'm either wearing some "inappropriate" clothes and would rather me wear clothes that almost fall off of me or he disapproves of the amount of makeup I wear (usually just compact and mascara, for special occasions like church or performances I wear eyeliner, blush, eyeshadow and lipgloss in addition, but never a lot) or what I eat or the blemishes on my face and for years I have struggled with this because it's always something wrong with the way I look and I'm just so sick and tired of it. Literally every time I feel good about my makeup or something I'm wearing he has something negative to say about it and no matter what anyone else says, good or bad, I feel like crap about it after that. It just frustrates me. Thanks for reading. Love y'all. ~ Cia