Change isn't real

I can't stop wanting to crawl into a different skin.

I hate my body.

I see blogs and articles

touting "proud and curvy"

and other similar phrases.

But it doesn't mean s**t.

Do they think people change?

No, things will be no different.

My life will stay the same.

ALL MY LIFE I'VE BEEN TOLD

"You're so fat,

 you make Free Willy 

 look like a tic tac."

ALL MY LIFE I'VE HEARD

"Which girl? 

 Oh, you mean her,

 the blonde lard."

ALL MY LIFE I'VE CARED,

 about other opinions

 about other people

 about everything but myself.

I destroyed my body,

first with junk and poison.

I indulged in self-pity.

But the pain had only begun.

Growing up I was taunted,

suffered cruelty from others.

In the mirror I'm haunted,

by each insulting memory.

Resorting to darker methods,

purging the poison nightly.

I hear the voices following me,

tearing me down slowly.

No more trying to change.

No changing myself or perspective.

Accepting the hate is the only choice.

Hating my body. 

And hating everyone else.

Reviews

[N.]

You captured the raw and violent emotions in this piece that comes to trying to please societal beauty standards. I love the intensity. N.