I drag the cursor over my face,
Delete.
There goes the birth mark my mother says gives me personality.
Delete.
I never want to be associated with the reality,
that I will never be gorgeous like these girls in Vogue.
Delete.
The veins from under my restless eyes disappear,
my skin becomes precious.
Delete.
The curve of my nose becomes straight,
As I turn myself into a disturbed fantasy.
Delete.
My chunky cheeks dissolve and takes away my innocence.
Delete.
My ever lasting forehead becomes,
An idea of perfection plastered upon young girls.
Delete.
My tainted eyes are squinted, so I am more appealing,
Because no one will ever love this.
Delete.
There is no way to rid of this feeling, of self hatred,
And guilt.
Delete.
Unless I make a change to my ever lasting thoughts.
Undo.
