Harmonious Juxtaposition

With a dash of mascara, 

light dab of blush,

and swipe of magenta lip gloss, 

I tie the laces of my mud riddled cleats.

With delicate hands folded, fingers interlaced between the jewels 

 I fiercely defend my opinions.

With a skin-tight dress, hair down, spirits up

I grip the steering wheel, eyes on the finish line.

My whole being, as society deems, is an utter mess.

I am a harmonious juxtaposition, nothing more and nothing less.