She despises the way she looks.
How her nose sticks out
a little to far.
Her hair never seems to fall,
in just the right place.
Her stomach is always bloated,
making her look fat.
Her eyes don’t have a sparkle,
the color’s to dull.
Her thighs stick together,
without ever having a gap.
Her feet look strange,
because she dances to much.
Every part of herself
she judges,
more than anyone ever could.
Because her definition of beauty
is what she’ll never become.
She will spend her life
worried and insecure,
fixing ever physical flaw,
and the fixing some more.
Her mind becomes full
with mocking voices
of all the pretty girls she saw,
and desires to become.