The wrong sculpt

I'm Not Like Her

I'm not like her, I can't look effortlessly beautiful in a size 8 dress.
I will never be the one to impress.

I'm not like her, I'm flawed and Imperfected. I'll never be what you expected.

I'm not like her, I don't have extraordinary facial definition.
Why can't somebody else be put in my position?

I'm not like her,I'm fat and if I said I was ugly that would be the biggest understatement. My tummy is distasteful and needs a skinnier replacement.

I'm not even slightly comparable to her, she has it so damn easy, she doesn't have to try. she's the fairest of them all and nobody can fucking deny!

She doesn't have the everyday battle of stretchmarks, up her hips streaking like a possessed highlighter committing a sin and bruising my skin.

She can admire her reflection, while I cry and make hatred with my foul complexion and pull my fat until I leave claw marks on myself.

She doesn't have to wear baggy clothes,
or be the feisty dog in a crowd of kittens.

If somebody where to hand a book of critiques about her, there would be nothing written.

There wouldn't be a word, not two or three because she's doesn't have the appalling state of me.

She doesn't have to worry about her meal or contemplate whether to starve and conceal herself.

I'm not like her, I can't get boys gawking at me from left right and center.

Not one soul has looked at me and saw a beauty, but in actuality spectated on a sunken,
sorrowed soul that's pleading with her structure, begging to obide by the rules.

To behave, correct her flaws but instead it withdraws, and retaliates to leave her bawling through the night with her body being her metaphorical kryptonite.

One day I'll look like her, all I can do I try and proceed.

But best believe I'll never be the girl anyone wants to receive