Critical chicks, the fashion police 

with dyed blonde hair and fake eyelashes

mock my crumpled blouse, my wide-legged pants.

I never claimed to be perfection in design

or a comparison to Marilyn Monroe.

Critical chicks, too arrogant to see beauty

when it radiates like the sun coming out

on a cloudy day.

My beauty will rise up to greet the morning sky

and rest in the light of the evening moon.

My beauty will not be compromised

by shallow, empty promises of vanity.