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Victim of Beauty Standards

Photo by Grace Bugin

First it was my brain

You invaded it like a storm

Continuously raging, tearing me down

Making me believe I was unworthy

Of you and all your glory

Your voice plunges into my chest

Carving my heart out with each demeaning word

I stand in front of you, my mouth sewn shut and eyes held open

You stand in front of me, my heart in your palm

My blood seeping through your fingers

I watch as it hits the floor

Drip, drip, drip

You laugh at the sight of me

Knowing you have destroyed me

Letting me be fooled by your rose-colored lens

Claiming yet another stone to place in your yard

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