you throw away knives, pencil sharpeners,
and forks; all gone but fingernails
too jagged, too weak to dig beneath the skin

you continue to chew to get further in,
careless about the dirt living under

it’s better this way you tell yourself
and you accept the lie until you see your
reflection wearing another’s skin

so strange, so painful:
you strip down; the flaws are visible

who is she? filled with self-loathing
abilities from men who scarred her being.
she deserves to be loved. at least by herself

©2018, Quiyet Brul

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