By Lina Norris-Raman, TIWP Student

Each glance in the mirror shows someone new,  
every version battling, not a nice enough view.  
Her nose too big, her waist too wide—  
never pausing to think of what’s inside.    

The guilt that pangs when she takes a bite,
she keeps it hidden, locked in tight. 
With trembling breaths, she steps on the scale.
The number too high, she knows she has failed. 

She’s a painting, smudged, incomplete,
with tears in her eyes she accepts defeat. 

The only girl she stares at more 
is the girl whose beauty everyone adores.  
Her body perfect, her hair a work of art.  
She doesn’t see it—now that’s the worst part.  

She’s seen herself, but can’t tell what’s real,  
which versions are truth, and which ones she feels.  
She only notices more flaws to fix,
her imperfections the topic she picks. 

With red rimmed eyes
she’ll frown at the girl she can’t escape.
Distorted. Dysmorphic. Out of shape.