standard edition, 2015

You look nice today.
A genuine compliment from a 

Friendly face but feels more

Like an insult. 

Is it the layers of beauty product

Smeared across my skin?

The unnatural lashes, rosy

Hue of my cheeks?

When it takes effort to 

Be praised for my beauty

I must only be when I wear

My own personal war paint.
Something is different about you.

He tells me with a grin,

It’s the good kind.

I smile back as he unknowingly 

Encourages the beginning of 

disorder, consequence. 

Is it because I’ve

Starved myself for two weeks

Straight? 

It takes sacrifice to be Sexy

I must only be when I can 

Fit into sized zero jeans.

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