The Cycle

And you sit and you hide

inside your big baggy clothes

cause you’re too ashamed to show

that you might have stomach rolls.

And in the summer you suffer

inside your big black sleeves

hiding red and purple lines

you hope nobody sees.

Because my god little dimples

and simple hues of your skin,

no matter your efforts,

will always be akin

to sins and the person

you never wanted to be:

big, curvy, ugly.

And when you look in the mirror

it ruins your day

cause you know you’ll never

have anything good to say

about the way that your thighs

might touch at the center,

or how your stomach and your jeans

are pressed too tight together.

It’s all so exhausting

but you can never not care.

Those days are over

and you must prepare

the 700 calories you’ll eat for the day;

300 push-ups from one more evil pound away.

Little girls and collar bones,

what else can I say?

We are living for the feeling

of getting lighter everyday.

Grumbling stomachs are success

and bloated bellies are bombs-

ticking down to the time

when you’ll finally fall.

But until that day

keep on sucking in.

Let no one know about the demon

living under your skin.

Cycles repeat

and this one never ends,

being big, then thin

and all over again.

Get used to trembling

at the thought of love,

it’s a waiting game

from the evil heavens above.

Beauty is not the inside,

it’s the image you see

when you look in the mirror

and think, “s**t that’s me!”

Compliments are empty,

stupid little f*****g lies.

A glimmer of self confidence

is a trick of the eye.

YOU WILL NEVER BE BEAUTIFUL

until your chin is all gone,

until your bones protrude

from over your lung.

Until your spine pokes through

with your purple veins.

When you’re down to size two

and numb from hunger pangs.

Only then

are you really, truly beautiful.

Until the time you eat

until you’re really full.

Now you’re stuck saying, “s**t!”

we’re at the ending

and now…

The Cycle. Is. Repeating.