Dysmorphia Poems

Popular Dysmorphia Poems
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia

the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .

i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .

how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?

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cigarettes and blueberries ; palace and princesses
by Ella Sophia

i want to smell like berries
not the cigarettes that i inhale
nor the rotting flesh of my skin

i want to look whimsical
like the pretty disney princesses
all locked up inside a dreamy palace

i want to be charmed upon
not lusted

......

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Recent Dysmorphia Poems
cigarettes and blueberries ; palace and princesses
by Ella Sophia

i want to smell like berries
not the cigarettes that i inhale
nor the rotting flesh of my skin

i want to look whimsical
like the pretty disney princesses
all locked up inside a dreamy palace

i want to be charmed upon
not lusted

......

Continue reading
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia

the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .

i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .

how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?

Continue reading
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