Lips barely pink
Almost too faint to be a color
Skin a little too pale
To be seen as healthy
The back is crooked and can't be fixed
The feet are wobbly and weak
There isn't enough muscle to hold it up
There isn't enough ink to cover it
The eyes are almost black with pigment
Covered by polycarbonate
In frames unfit for the face
The hands shake
From what, is unknown
The head shakes or twists
An unwanted but must-be-done motion
The teeth will never be a brilliant white
And the cheeks never a rosy pink
The chest is too big
Even though cup size says otherwise
But each breast is too big
In the palm of someone's hand
There's no stomach
Only ribs
And there's a bleeding that happens
In an ugly place
Once a month
For fifty years
I hate mirrors
YOU ARE READING
Poems That I Form
PoetryI ask for no comments, votes, or anything. This is a place I can rant quietly without anyone needing to be a mandated reporter.
