I am beautiful.

I’ve always had confidence problems.

People didn’t cause it.

I guess that I am a perfectionist.

I wanted that stereotypical Barbie body.

Small, Tan, Tall, and perfect.

I became unhealthy.

Always pale and cold.

Sad.

Then I came back into reality.

I saw that my idea of perfection was a plastic doll.

It was a sick reality that I had become accustomed to.

I was obsessed with it.

One day, after a long school day, I realized what I am.

I am beautiful.

I am not what I had made myself believe.

I was not those negative things.

I did it.

I am me, I am beautiful.

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

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