one word
two syllables
a messy jumble of
seven sad letters
five consonants
two lonely vowels.

Perfect
was the girl
with long raven hair
and shimmering green eyes
who wiped away
mascara stains
and hid her wrists
under bulky sweaters
because she felt hate
towards the reflection
in the bathroom mirror.

Perfect
was the girl
who last smiled in May
starving herself from
her distant dreams,
her unreachable goals,
the air she breathed
too caught up in hopes
of someday becoming this

one word,
two syllables,
seven letters
five consonants
two vowels


and all because she believed she was not.