The Science Of Beauty Poem by Em Jay Christian

What is it,
That trasnforms,
Features into beauty.
Is it what society,
Spills into your brains,
Terrorizing you,
Pouring down,
Like acid rain.
Or is it deeper,
More than man-made,
Were we all born this way?
What about my face,
Tells you to think I'm pretty?
Is it my large,
Dark eyes.
Tellling you I'm,
Innocent,
And nice?
Or my clear skin?
Saying it's okay to touch me,
I wont make you sick.
Or perhaps my shapely lips,
Pushed out in a pout,
Longing to be kissed.
Perhaps it's the Science of Beauty,
Telling you these things.
Maybe it's because I'm short,
And therefore,
Less intimidating.
Maybe it makes you think,
You can take care of me,
That I need protecting.
Maybe it's my big chest,
Screaming in your face,
'HEY, Im a woman! '
Maybe it's my hips,
Telling your anamalistic brain,
I'm ready to mate,
That I can carry babies,
Help you repopulate.
Or maybe,
It's a combination,
Of many of these things,
That brings you to your knees.
Begging for my favor,
Almost pathetically.
But the thing I like the most,
Is when I open up my mouth.
And my feminism falls out,
And you realize I have a brain,
Inside my pretty little head,
The Science of Beauty,
Goes right out the window,
Doesn't it?