I once felt beautiful
walking down the street.
My head was raised
higher than the trees
that surrounded the city
and my hands could
almost capture the sun
in my palms.
People that I had
towered over felt differently
towards my pride.
The words that quietly
glided off of their tongue
felt like a small sting
around my body.
My happiness started to
dissolve away and the
feeling of self-hate that
had once been covered
began to rise up again.
My height became
more and more meaningless
and trees started to grow
as I began to shrivel up.
The self-confidence that once
devoured me had moved
on to it’s next victim
and left me feeling that
everything it had given me
was a waste;
I was narcissistic
for thinking that I was beautiful.
I want to go back
and capture that
young girl by the face
and tell her that the
confidence that resides
in her make her beautiful,
not the fat on her tummy.
That beauty cannot
be ridiculed by anyone
since you have made it,
you have gained it,
and you have lived it.
You are allowed to
have your head held high
at all times
and be sure of the
ballads that leave the cave
they were carved in.
I want to tell every
girl that looks in
the mirror and whispers
that their stomach
is too large,
their breasts too tiny,
their freckles too bright
that they are all gifts;
tell them to take pride
in their bodies;
tell them that everything
about them is beautiful.
No matter their weight,
or other factors that have
been handed to us through
life, they have the right
to hold their head up
higher than anything in
this universe and it cannot
be ripped away from their
hands.
I want them to feel
the way that young girl
on the street
should have felt.
walking down the street.
My head was raised
higher than the trees
that surrounded the city
and my hands could
almost capture the sun
in my palms.
People that I had
towered over felt differently
towards my pride.
The words that quietly
glided off of their tongue
felt like a small sting
around my body.
My happiness started to
dissolve away and the
feeling of self-hate that
had once been covered
began to rise up again.
My height became
more and more meaningless
and trees started to grow
as I began to shrivel up.
The self-confidence that once
devoured me had moved
on to it’s next victim
and left me feeling that
everything it had given me
was a waste;
I was narcissistic
for thinking that I was beautiful.
I want to go back
and capture that
young girl by the face
and tell her that the
confidence that resides
in her make her beautiful,
not the fat on her tummy.
That beauty cannot
be ridiculed by anyone
since you have made it,
you have gained it,
and you have lived it.
You are allowed to
have your head held high
at all times
and be sure of the
ballads that leave the cave
they were carved in.
I want to tell every
girl that looks in
the mirror and whispers
that their stomach
is too large,
their breasts too tiny,
their freckles too bright
that they are all gifts;
tell them to take pride
in their bodies;
tell them that everything
about them is beautiful.
No matter their weight,
or other factors that have
been handed to us through
life, they have the right
to hold their head up
higher than anything in
this universe and it cannot
be ripped away from their
hands.
I want them to feel
the way that young girl
on the street
should have felt.