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Dec 2017
For Little Me,
My little copy,
Who’s not so little
Any more.
To little me,
Who’s growing up,
And becoming a strong,
And beautiful woman.
I tell you now,
Little me,
Don’t look at my expression
When I scroll through pictures of myself.
Don’t watch me cringe
When I look at the scale,
Or listen to my mumbled sentiments
Of self-hatred
After I indulge in something rich
And flavorful.
Don’t take after me,
Little Me.
You’re far too precious.
More precious to me
Than I am to myself
To do what I do
When I look at myself.
Little Me,
I hear you in the store.
Where you used to twirl in colorful outfits in front of the mirror,
you now turn with a look of disdain,
And comment on the fit,
The tucks and curves,
And places that don’t look quite right to you.
Little Me,
When I look at you,
You must understand,
I see a stunning young lady,
Blossoming into grace and radiating joy.
You are a burst of sunlight in a dark room
When you giggle
And grin
And greet everyone with equal love and respect.
What others see
Is not what you see
And life is too short
To tend to imaginary flaws.
Bask in your qualities,
Your bountiful,
Beautiful
Qualities.
I want you to see the same rosy cheeks,
Spun-copper hair,
And elegant, powerful height
That I do.
I want you to see yourself
With all of the love that I have for you,
Little Me.
My perfect,
Adorable,
Growing-up-far-too-quickly
Little Me.
Emily Miller
Written by
Emily Miller  23/F
(23/F)   
  484
   honeyed
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