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Nov 2015
I count the days since I've eaten
Count the numbers on the scale, count the
sizes, the wrinkles, the imperfections, the calories
flashing pristine smiles on blue lit screens
perfect faces delivering gospel to the invalids
I alternate between mother and monster
eyes too close together, nose too big
drink some tea, paint over what isn't right
cut the skin where it isn't pretty enough
oh honey, look what you've done to yourself
will myself into skeleton form to erase the ugliness
if you don't save quickly, what good will surgery do?
the crashing waves of hate subsides
the ambition, the thirst to be pretty enough
some sick twist of fate
his desires crack like a whip behind me
my legs struggling to keep up with the legs of
six other girls pulling this ******* carriage
wittle down the face here, or there
tighter, softer, almond eyes, longer legs, thinner face
until I can barely pull the weight of his expectations
but how can I do anything but try to keep up when
I'm hooked up to a yolk behind perfect *****,
****** ratios and racial fetishes
crafting a life that consists of running and water and sleep and
nothing else but self loathing
he kissed her lips but it's my fault
the truth butchered my trust in anything
butterflies of innocence I birthed and ruined
please forgive me for the things I cannot change
Written by
   Connor Ruther
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