I used to be happy with my body.
"You're so chubby! Get rid of some fat"
"Go work out a little."
Less and less became my portions.
Less and less became the number on the scale.
I got happy with my body again.
"You got too skinny. It doesn't look good"
"You're not eating enough."
Less and less became my confidence.
Now my mind is plagued by words of others
My own voice became so faint
My stretch marks were a thing of beauty
Now I only find peace in my scars.
"You seem upset. You haven't touched your food."
I'm just battling the demons that you created.
"Your chest is so flat. A little surgery should fix that."
"Wear this, it makes you look like you have breasts."
This standard of so called beauty
It damages and cracks and breaks us.
"Wear a dress. Beautiful women don't wear that."
Pointing at my baggy tees and ripped jeans
My chains and my sneakers.
But they don't realize I wear baggy clothes
To hide my body from their gaze
That ever-judging gaze.
"Smile more. Men don't like depressed women."
If my life were to please a man,
Then why is she so beautiful?
My smiles no longer genuine
They no longer reach my eyes.
Enough.
I used to be happy with my body.
Now I might never be again.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Empathy
PoetryA collection of poetry and prose for all you poetry lovers out there. Warning: there is a few references to suicide. Not suitable for young eyes. This is all written about experiences and dreams of yours truly.
