i hate my body for doing things
i dont tell it to do
every bulge disarms me
makes me think im fat
logic tells me im not
but does a mirror care?
of course not
its designed to trick the eye
make it see each and every
imperfection
makes the mind remember
every day it was bloated
every scar
scratch
and tear
engulfing my sight
i know im not beautiful
i think it shallow
to feel i need to be told that
that im at least pretty to someone
at the same time
i wilt when i dont hear it
i start to believe myself
i fall into the a stasis of self pity
to which i so despise

my eyes betray me