"The Masks We Wear"

Beneath the surface of youthful disguise,

A shadowed battle within each gaze lies.

Where beauty's tyrant holds its firm command,

And lookism's shackles bind the land.

Oh, how the mirrors whisper with disdain,

As faces are judged, and souls remain.

In a world where beauty reigns supreme,

The heart's true essence is but a dream.

With every passing glance, a verdict cast,

And self-esteem shattered, forever surpassed.

In the cruel court of aesthetic decree,

Individuality fades, masked identities decree.

Faces painted, contoured, like works of art,

In hopes to appease the lookism's chart.

Yet, the soul's yearning, untouched by disguise,

Wails in the silence, where true beauty lies.

Like soldiers in trenches, they battle unseen,

Against the tides of judgment, so keen.

Their spirits wounded, scars deeply etched,

By society's standards, cold and wretched.

Oh, let us rise, like the phoenix from the flame,

Embrace the uniqueness that bears no name.

For true beauty lies in the depth of the soul,

Beyond the superficial, it claims its role.

Let not the masks we wear define our worth,

Nor let the gaze of others decide our birth.

In Wilfred Owen's voice, we must proclaim,

That lookism's chains shall not hold our flame.

For beauty dwells in hearts brave and true,

In compassion, kindness, shining through.

So let us unite, in a chorus of might,

To defy lookism's grip, and reclaim our right.

In the battle against prejudice's reign,

Let empathy and acceptance be our campaign.

For in the end, when masks fade away,

Our authentic selves shall triumph and sway.

No longer confined by society's gaze,

We'll embrace our uniqueness, in myriad ways.

And in the voice of Wilfred Owen's plea,

Lookism's chains will finally break free.