creeping

there’s something creeping,

creeping into my head.

a thought, not a voice.

but it still pricked deep,

making me flinch with the first few words.

hips too wide,

stomach too large,

not a flat chest.

i tried to shake it, but it simply struck harder.

thighs too large,

face too baby-like,

you are so soft.

and it doesn’t ever stop.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741