Woman, 2 of many
She wrapped herself in other people's words,
Contorted to fit their expectations.
She was no creature with spine and bones,
And had no armor for protection.
Instead she constantly transformed,
Hoping to stay ahead of the criticisms
That inevitably found her.
She lost herself to the tangled mess
Of unreachable perfection.
Until the only honest thing she owned,
Buried deep within her belly,
Was a growing ball of fear and hate
Made from the anger that she swallowed.
It clanged around her insides while she ran.
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