“Beautiful”

"Look in the mirror,
I turn sideways,
My head stays still as a statue.
I glance down, my eyes meet my stomach.
I see all the words, the thoughts,
Break me like a baseball through a window.
The only thing that remains is
My heart, shriveled up inside of me.
I suck in, I stand tall,
Nothing I can do to to make me feel
Beautiful.
Whose fault is it anyways?
Is it my parents? Is it God?
Is it me?
I swat an obnoxious tear from my face,
Too angry to face the truth of being stuck.
I flail my hands around the dark room,
Helplessly looking for a saving grace.
But it's not there.
I checked it just yesterday.
I'm tired of feeling like
The product of hate and ugliness.
The smile that decorates my face in the
Photos that line my hallway
Are only from years of training,
Pretending that the glow from my skin
Isn't makeup.
Pretending that the clothes I wear
Don't squeeze me around my body.
Pretending that the dark storm raging inside of me
Is a field of spring blooms and green grass.
I've merely seen pictures of girls in bikinis.
I've seen pictures of girls with gaps between their thighs.
But never have I ever
Felt the joy of experiencing
Being beautiful.
The thought of beautiful not so much as a
Dream.
A beautiful dream.

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by GL reader | 2/1/2016