I am not allowed to exist
And I fear taking space.
While in my head, I know what I look like.
I lose sight of my body
And I fear not recognizing
The girl looking back at me
Inside the cheap mirror in my room.
Am I too big, or am I too small?
Am I pretty or ugly?
Am I like the girls on the Instagram posts?
They’re allowed to exist,
With pretty clothes I could never find
And makeup I would never wear.
They’re all shapes and colors
But I’m just a vague concept.
A Shapeless form.
Breathing,
Living,
Working,
Moving,
And going on.
