My body a piece of art, you didn't like
you painted it with criticism to suit your style.
Your words covering me like clay
and now my mirror reflects a shell.
A shell, I do not recognize.
You have made me insecure
you have made me despise myself.
Words like ugly, hippo, not-good-enough
is what I associate with myself.
Now all I see is flaws.
Ugly is what I feel,
like the dark black spots on the moon
like the tired stretch marks on my shabby body.
It is so easy for you to bully and judge, to pass a verdict.
"It is inner beauty that matters." some lie
HA! don't make me laugh, it is horse shit.
You do not know,
what's going on under these clothes,
the bloody wounds you have left on my soul,
the nights when I soak my pillow,
and evenings when I just wanna end it all.
You make me feel sad,
You make me feel less and pigmented,
like the fallen autumn leaves,
waiting to be crushed,
under the next footstep.
YOU ARE READING
PillowTalk: A Collection of Poems
PoetryPillow Talk is a collection of thoughts and jumble of emotions that you feel at night when you are left to your own devices. Each poem talks about a new emotion, a new situation and a new feeling.
