Dysmorphic

It starts with innocent doubt, making petty excuses for yourself such as things that you can't change. It's your character, your mannerisms, your voice but then the voices turn darker and stab deeper. It's that you're 160cm tall and will never grow, it's that tiny piece of fat in your belly that keeps you from the figure of your dreams, it's the size of your shoulders because the weight of the world is already too much to handle. The voices growl and enter the pitch black, it's the fucking way you look at them with those sad eyes, it's the stick thin arms that couldn't cradle a feather even if you wanted them too and the ribs that crack upon judgemental eyes feasting upon them. This all happens because you are not enough, you are never enough, your body is the living pest that no amount of pesticide will kill so people have no choice but to run