Is it my fault
That I look at someone
And feel repulsed
By the way their
Body flows?
That I can’t look at anyone
And not rip
And pick apart
Every little flaw they have;
A crooked smile,
Lopsided eyes,
A tilted nose,
Hairy limbs,
Flaky skin,
Tilted lips,
An asymmetrical face,
A too-big forehead,
Puffy cheeks,
A bloated stomach,
Humongous thighs,
Giant arms,
A wide frame,
Bushy eyebrows,
Monkey ears,
Uneven feet,
Messed up hands,
A normality in a flawed creation
Yet it’s all that catches my eyes
When I look at
People in the lifts,
In the shops,
On the street,
In the corridors,
In a home,
In a room,
In the mirror.
“Wrong! Wrong!” My brain screams
In terror
It’s right, I suppose,
That monster in the reflection must be
The consequences of an
Error.