Every human being can say, that they can only be their best,
In both the deeds that they perform, and the way they dress,
But in this modern world, there’s not enough cool for all,
So, let “perfection pressure” begin, to start it’s appal.
Folk get ill for the “body beautiful”, in danger cells called gyms,
Their veins are popping, blood is dropping, due to bodily sins,
“Don’t eat that, eat this!” forceful newspaper will blare out,
Choose whatever you may to eat, to win this dietary bout.
Trinny and Susannah wannabees will try to drape their cloth,
“To look this good, you’ve gotta pay” like dogs their mouths froth,
“Hey you over there! I know me, I have my own identity”
Will be your certain response, to escape their fiscal villainy.
“Can I take your picture please?” a camera wielder will say,
You stand and pose to act as muse, for modern day Monet,
But, when you look at what’s been done, there’s no sense of ease,
“As I keep on saying, I am me, so no airbrushing please!?”