There is a moment where
I am no longer a person.
A moment where I am
scrutinized
objectified
observed.
Where people trail the curves of my body with their eyes.
They stare at the softness of my face, my limbs.
They see me and I am
labeled
categorized
classified.
I am a woman to them.
I am whistled at
because my features betray me.
I am cat-called
because my chest sprouts from my body
in such a way that defines me as female.
I am horrified
because the curves of my body are in the wrong places.
Whether dysphoria, dysmorphia–
It's a feeling of wrong.
It's a feeling that my body is not my own,
YOU ARE READING
Infinite Depths | a collection of poetry <33
Poetry"Though our depths be but infinite, we still drown within the edges of our skulls.' A sample of poetry from my officially published book! it's out now on Amazon <3 ☆ [Some of these poems touch on topics such as struggles with mental health and menti...
