The muscled, runner’s legs
Extending from under clothes I
Hardly remember buying and
When did I place those
Ink spots upon my skin

When did I grow my hair
Till it stretched past these
Shoulders I used to hate
And can I be sure that
My soul resides within

This image, in her bold
Sunglasses and lipsticks and
With more makeup upon
Her face then I ever
Remember learning

All her jewels and flowers
Are confusing and so
New to me even though
Supposedly inside her frame
My essence is churning

I look and wonder when
I became such an enigma,
I am some people’s idea of
Beauty, and other’s may
Find me stereotypical

What is this body shown
Through a camera lens, is it
Really mine as they profess
And now as I analyse
I feel so miserable

I am unrecognisable to my
Own eyes, the mirror is
Baffling to these irises that
Search for familiarity
And I long to feel at home

Inside this corpse I reside
Supposedly, or maybe just
Confusedly, I move its limbs
I manipulate it and try
To reconcile my visual show

Yet in a photograph I do
Struggle to pick out myself
Whatever I expect, these eyes
So empty are not it and neither
Is this uncertain smile

This breaking hair and the way
I pose to pretend I’m
Absolutely fine, thankyou,
I don’t expect it and really
I just don’t know why.