We don't talk about it.
When someone brings up
their body, your imperfections,
the way her eyes don't light up,
the scars on my wrists,
We brush it off and turn away.
We cannot talk about it.

I try not to think about
how much I hate myself.

Self hatred is taboo.
Unhappiness isn't permitted.
But we're all so miserable.
Wouldn't it be better if
we didn't feel so alone?