Tuesday, September 13, 2011


There's this girl i know.
She hates herself.

She whispers into my ears how she's ugly,
So imperfect and putrid, and can never love
Or be loved.

She holds back her tears as she shatters another mirror
And cuts herself deeper,
Wishing she had the courage to just end it because, face it,
The world would be better without her.

I'm trying to reach out to her,
Pull her back and around and say 'you're so wrong, so wrong,'
Tell her 'you are beautiful,' and hold her tightly
Never let her go, because i fear if i do i'll lose her.

She shakes me off, shuts her mind off to the
Positives of herself and focuses on negatives.
Others can't find them at all, even with a trained dog,
But she picks them out expertly and whittles away.

'So, so bulbous,' she mutters sickened,
'So weak and flabby, so scarred and blotchy,'
'Wrong,' i try to tell her.
'Strong and fierce, beauty personified.'

She turns around and glares at me, searching me,
Looking into our eyes and touching our lips,
Our face, our bare skin, tracing
Laces of scars and thin bones.

'No,' she murmurs. 'That is you.'
I smash my mirror and the beautiful girl is gone.

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