Every morning we get dressed.
We battle if our jeans are too tight, and if the patches we had on our knees yesterday will tear to shreds today.
But we still open the top drawer of our dresser, because putting on clothes is an unwritten necessity.
And when we think we are put together.
And when we think we are presentable.
When we tell ourselves that we our fully dressed to our liking.
When we feel it is time for others to see. 
We first face our inner critic and begin to look in our own reflection.
And we go far beyond our cotton tees and our white laced shoes.
We ride straight into a part where nothing has a zipper.
and nothing is grasped so tightly by the itch of a turtle neck,
where nothing seems to be held back by labels or shoes so tight they leave blisters in between our toes.
And we question whether these blisters are a price of beauty...
We tell ourselves it's our duty to feel pain.
We know these blisters are not permanent.
After all, on the tag it clearly says break them in… We think its just temporary. 
So we widen our toes and walk so carefully there are traces of stitches to bandage our pain with each step we think we are taking..
But our reflection is keeping us still.
the image of our look holds us silent and unoriginal.
But still we continue…

With an eyeful mind and an idyllic appearance in mind, we stare ourselves down from the top of our little earlobes, examining that one is slightly unproportioned and bring our heads down to those painful shoes
Although they look cute….
Are they worth the pain?
An answer that is felt, but kept unanswered by the fear of unlacing our soles
Putting all faults aside,
Never do they go out the door.
The Door.
The exit sign to the reflection in mind