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Nora Feb 2016
My bottom blossoms
When I sit atop the
Bed and fine red lines
Run down its sides.
If this is the marking
Of a budding woman,
Then let me proudly
Display my vines.
Meenu Syriac May 2014
This is you,
Its about you, how you adorned a veil
And hid beneath it all your life.
When the deepest of your thoughts,
Turned and gave their evil smile,
All you could think was how much
In the dark, you could be who you are.
And looking at the mirror
All you could see were the scars.
The despair in your voice
Sadly no one bothered to give you a hand.
You'd pluck at yourself all day and night
Thinking what you see is all that there is to what you are...

This is me, myself and I
This soul behind the skin, no longer has a voice, a heart
An undertone, I choose to hide in the dark
This mirror lies, but I can't see through that
Clawing at the surface, stabbing at the fresh wounds,
Letting the blood flow, maybe slash and burn
There should be something behind this disgrace
This face, no perfection, no longer a sight
The curves of my mouth always turned down
And my eyes can't see past the tears...

This is all just me,
    Its about me, how I see myself
        In the mirror, in someone else's eyes
             How I close mine, not even dare to look
                 *At the demon that stares back.
Recently came across a documentary about BDD, Body Dismorphic Disorder, a psychological condition characterized by the person excessively obsessing about how they look, sometimes to the extremes of self mutilating themselves.  Often mistook as vanity, these people have a very hard time accepting what they look like.
This is written from an angle a person with the disorder, would write. Of course, the point of why I'm writing this, is to tell you, that YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. Really. INSIDE, OUT.
Rose L Apr 2014
let me tell you boys and girls
how it feels to drag a beating nicotine heart from your ribs
and drain the blood from your pink and purple fingertips
let me tell you how i cried when I pulled a slice from my wrist and told myself I was beautiful
time and time again I told myself i was beautiful -
tell me how it feels to rot inside
and kiss the very thing your mama feared with ruby red lips
i've got time on this earth to spare, kids -
nail paint over blood and bones showing
hoarse throats and his own special kind of poison in my guts -
red eyeliner and a black death in tear ducts.
Lets see how many gore metaphors I can fit into one poem
Aoife Teese Apr 2014
i didn't feel large
until i saw the number
blinking back at me

nothing has changed
since yesterday, except
maybe a pound, two?

deep breaths
in through the nose
out through the mouth
you are healthy now
you are healthy now
you are beautiful
this is a good thing

my thighs touch
(this is a good thing)
the belt of my dress
is pressing
my stomach
(this is a good thing)

i didn't eat breakfast today
Emily Von Shultz Oct 2012
Sit up straight,
you're not pretty when you seem so relaxed.
Suicide season only comes once a year,
there's no other time for sadness here.

Never spend any money on food,
buy expensive clothes to please everyone else,
even though you live all of your life in solitude.

Spread yourself too thin by biting off more than you can chew,
keep reminding yourself that discipline is a virtue.

You're becoming so distant from the rest,
and the finish-line is blurry now.
You're not sure if they're overlapping you or you're the one that's winning,
yet you feel it is both somehow.

Make it through another Autumn and fall into Winter,
and maybe this time you can walk alone in the snow without leaving a footprint.
It will be beautiful,
it will be pure,
it will be worth it,
I am sure.

An abominable thought comes to mind:
You can crash your car violently enough so that it will ruin your entire face, it will be a blank slate, and then no one can judge you for getting plastic surgery.
You might actually look better that way.

A cognitive distortion
blown out of proportion,
it haunts my mind every day.

— The End —