Makeshift Armor

I was taught my body is a tool

Utilized by those around me

I was taught that my appearance is everything

To extent of skipping meals and using too much makeup

I was taught that my body is ugly and fat

No one would ever truly desire me

My body hatred and dismorphia acting as armor

Shielding me from compliments and helping hands

Weighing heavy on the weak soul within

Your touch, cold on my outer shell.

But it is not you who is cold,

It is my mind who says I am not worthy

My soul that yearns to be desired

My heart begging for it all to stop

The never ending cycle of self hatred

I am a shell, longing to fill myself with other peoples opinions.

But I will never be good enough,

I will never be small enough

I will never be dainty or pretty or graceful.

I will always be an empty cast of armor

Waiting to be filled with worthiness for beauty.