falling in love
with the idea
of what i want
my body to look like
then i wake up
seeing this disguise
one that was forced
onto my unwilling body
look in the mirror
seeing someone i cant
think of the name of
calling her she is hard enough
listening to music
forgetting this skin
then the camera shows up
revealing the truth
i cant shake the knowledge
that ill never be seen
as what i wish to be
but hey at least im breathing
can i really complain
others have it worse
im just a white kid
whining over his body
YOU ARE READING
The Night Talks • Vents
PoetryDisgusting and disturbing thoughts turned into try-hard poetry.
