Am I human?

It comes with the shame

Of trying to look like the women

I see on tv’s,

advertisements,

and all over social media,

It’s a generic response, I know, I’m aware

“But it’s just filters, it’s all in your head.”

But it’s seeing all of their smooth complexions,

Dewy skin

No imperfections

And their lustrous bodies

Curvaceous and round

In all the right places.

And the shame of looking in the mirror

Becomes a torturous endeavour of feeling

Inhuman,

Unworthy,

And disfigured.

And when the self mutilation

Coexisted with the shame,

I knew that this was like a razor,

Raping me until I turned blue and numb.

mind muted

Morphing into shame and guilt.

Until I was nothing but dysphasia,

Fucking screaming and wishing just how much I wanted to want to die.

I wake up

Walking on eggshells

Not knowing what burning will succumb.

Feeling the dread as the pain tightens like a noose around my naked body

Be perfect, be perfect,

It’s never enough.

An execution

As I am being laughed at,

Tormented

By the way I look

The way the excess hair

Makes you look manly,

Not feminine enough,

Who could ever fucking love you?

The deciduous vertebrae

Writhe into the holes of my insecurities.

Writhing into what makes me

Only a fucking human.