constrained by society’s idea of a pretty picture, you weep as you cross paths with mirror glass.

you are an angel held back by your own tears.
you toss and turn through these endless days, veins choked tight by your darkest fears.

and you're whimpering in your sleep even as I lay beside you, and I’m on the brink of drifting off when your lips graze my ear with a whisper;


“how can I ever be somebody if I don’t have the right body?”