My worth has been determined by the beauty of my skin.
Not my brains, not my kindness, not my mean apple pie.
Consider me average, though not fun, flirty, or thin.
Because in this world, there is no time to moan and cry
when you’re playing against the boys, hardball style.
Against your fellow womenfolk, jealousy is high in supply.
Can’t you see my behind my pain-stricken smile?
PROMPT: And now our (optional) prompt! Today, I challenge you to write a poem in terza rima. This form was invented by Dante, and used in The Divine Comedy. It consists of three-line stanzas, with a “chained” rhyme scheme. The first stanza is ABA, the second is BCB, the third is CDC, and so on. No particular meter is necessary, but English poets have tended to default to iambic pentameter (iambic pentameter is like the Microsoft Windows of English poetry). One common way of ending a terza rima poem is with a single line standing on its own, rhyming with the middle line of the preceding three-line stanza.