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Dhriti Seth Jul 2019
I hope you don’t judge me
By the pigment on my face
I hope you see more in me
Than the inches around my waist

I hope you stop believing
That age is a handicap
I hope you don’t seclude me
If we’re from different places on the map

I hope you don’t feel
As if I’m a threat to you
Just because my choice of partners
Is crucified by taboo

I am not the inferior gender
I demand equal place and pay
And when someone wrongs me
I hope Society doesn’t push me away

I hope you don’t shun me
Because my gender is undefined
I hope you don’t try your best
To crush me in the world’s grind

I hope you open your eyes and see
That our He was always the same
We need to stop all death and destruction
That happens in His name

I hope this system of division
Hasn’t stuck to your mind
And when it comes to basic rights
I hope I am not left behind
                                        - D.S.
Hey guys! I'm new here so would really love to make new poet-friends and be a part of the community. Please be sure to leave a comment. Rip the poem apart if you like, constructive criticism is my salvation and is always eagerly awaited. Thanks a lot. Hope you have a great day and a great week.
Until next time,
Dhriti Seth
Laura Jul 2018
Bun o'clock
I'm hungry but I don't say anything
Because I can hold on longer

Chew pm
Someone says I look thin
Have I lost weight??

Three pounds
Potentially three pounds
But I don't know because I always think I look bloated

Four ice cubes to tie me over
I don't need to eat
I'm okay

Five fat shaming *******
Stroll past me in their skinny jeans
Reminding me who deserves to be a size 0

Tricks o' the mind
Start to play
As I tell myself I don't need to eat because I did yesterday

Age seven is when
Mama first told me to stretch my shirts
Hide my figure
Watch what I eat
Stop taking second helpings
No dessert

Looks like a couple of donuts.
Muffins.  Pizzas.
Any round food.
My round stomach.

Nibble pm.
It's okay to eat a little?  Maybe?

Ten pm?
Or ten candy bars?

Eleven hours later
Nothing in my belly
But four ice cubes

Twelve: time to taunt my taste buds
Trick myself
Tell myself that I'll eat tomorrow
Tomorrow will be the day
The day I really splurge
Everyone knows that's a lie
But my tummy doesn't
charlie snow May 2017
you'll never know how it feels
to be a potato being fried
being mixed with salt or cheese powder
as people eat and digest you in their stomach

you'll never know how it feels
to be a teddy bear being hugged
or punched at because of its softness
since it has no life so you just kept doing it

you'll never know how it feels
to be the fat kid in your class
because you were popular
and everyone admired the pretty ones

you'll never know how it feels
to be gay as people tear you apart
because you're a disgrace
and the bible told you you're invalid

you'll never know how it feels
to be black because your skin is clear
and they never tried to **** you
because of your race and skin color

you'll never know how it feels
to be vincent van gogh as he tried
to poison himself by eating yellow paint
and drinking turpentine

you'll never know how it feels
to be a **** victim
whether you're a man or a woman
because you kept thrusting and it hurt

you'll never know how it feels
to be in heaven or hell
because you're dead
and you're starting somewhere ahead
trigger warning// it contains sensitive material
Lindsay Thomas Sep 2015
Why is literally everything over sexualized except for realistic body types? All women have cellulite. All women have rolls when they sit down or lean one hip to the side. All girls jiggle somewhere when they walk--and I'm not talking about their ******* ****.
I'm talking about feeling your legs and belly jiggle, wishing you didn't care, feeling less and less **** every day. Feeling like a stranger in your own skin like you put on the wrong meat suit one morning and misplaced your old one.
I'm talking about skinny taking over everything, and my own skinny being considered plus-sized. I'm talking about looking in the mirror, utterly disgusted by your own body because the world tells you that you need to change.
I'm talking about feeling guilty after eating anything; not eating, binging, and dressing in layers to hide how you really feel about how you really look. I'm talking about how hard it is to love yourself, when the world tells you the only women deserving of love are sizes 2 and under...and if they are bigger, they can only have curvy hips and a tiny waist, both of which you have to be born with to achieve. Having a wide rib cage and a wider everything else is something I was born into....and I can't change it enough:
My legs rub each other raw when I walk, and I'm too tall for heels. I have bruised hips from hitting doorways and edges because I misjudge how wide I really am.
I'm in denial.
I grab the fat on my back wishing my boyfriend would stop. I stand in front of the mirror, fighting back tears, fighting back the urge to wish for the flu. After all, the skinny girls are always bragging about how much weight they lost while home sick with one thing or another. Unfortunately, losing weight is harder for those with weight to lose.
As I put my arms to my sides and watch how far the fat expands to make my arms look like three times their size than when I was yanking at my hair in panic.
I watch how my belly looks when I slouch, when I stand up straight, and when I lean too far back in an effort to obtain a flat stomach.
Round, curvy, rounder.
It's intoxicating, sickening, but I just can't stop. I stare and I stare some more and I hate every inch. I wake up, and do this routine every morning, and every second of my day thereafter.
I'm talking about waking up every morning and making a point to avoid mirrors throughout the day, tripping over things to avoid looking down at yourself, and the constant feeling of inadequacy knowing that you'll never be someone that can walk outside with confidence knowing how easy life is as opportunities and love fall right into your lap...because you're conventionally attractive, of course.
You're too big to cuddle on a couch, or share a chair, or casually sit on your lover's lap. You'll never be lifted off the ground with ease in a romantic gesture. You'll never be able to joke about how much you eat like the skinny girls can because, unfortunately, your love of comfort in food form shows all too well.
You'll probably never have love as solid as an attractive woman would have, either. No one will ever be jealous over you because, well, who's going to steal you away but the desserts you sneak when you're alone and aching?
Alone and aching are emotions all too familiar to the less than conventional.
#bodyimage #fatshaming #selfimage
Matthew Harlovic May 2015
Yesterday, she caught her curves
in the center of her palms.
She cuddled the skin
and coddled the effort
that she put in
to make it shrink
but she still thinks
it made no difference.

© Matthew Harlovic

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