Pressure has me blinded,
I'm consumed by shapes and sizes.
Beauty of the world is lost in a blur.
Numbers whizz round my head,
Just want to be a perfect ten.
No longer is it people I see,
just their shapes and sizes,
Where do I fit in?
Why, oh why can't I be thin.
Perfect straight lines or
Bulging lumps, soft and round,
I'm obsessed with my shape and the
Size of the shadow I cast upon the ground.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
Pressure has me blinded,
I'm consumed by shapes and sizes.
Beauty of the world is lost in a blur.
Numbers whizz round my head,
Just want to be a perfect ten.
No longer is it people I see,
just their shapes and sizes,
Where do I fit in?
Why, oh why can't I be thin.
Perfect straight lines or
Bulging lumps, soft and round,
I'm obsessed with my shape and the
Size of the shadow I cast upon the ground.
I know we're meant to be different. And sometimes I can embrace my curves, but sometimes I just want to be like the objects of affection that surround us.
