Beauty Poem by Mikaela Hall

Why can’t I look like her?

When will it be my turn?
I want to be pretty too.
You know what–
I don’t need to be pretty, to feel pretty.
Oh wait, I forgot–
I’m too fat to be pretty.
Sorry, my mistake.

Hold on, I can fix this.
I’ll find a way.
Where to start?
How about eating?
Or perhaps the opposite?
I have so many options.
Diet, starve, purge…
Well lets chose the simplest one.
Time to starve.

It’s been over a month.
People are starting to notice.
Nobody ever took interest in me before.
Why do you all suddenly care?
Does this mean I have to eat?
Just the thought of it makes me cringe.

No, I can’t do this.
I won’t let myself quit because other people disagree.
I need to see my bones.
I can’t eat until I see my bones.

They all say I’m killing myself but oh well.
I’m already dead inside so I don’t see a problem.
Self-destruction is such a pretty little thing.

I’m almost there,
but this still isn’t good enough.
I have too much fat.
People say its just skin, I can’t get rid of it.
But I say–
If I can pinch it, I can lose it.

I told myself–
I’m going to be skinny or die trying
and that’s just what I did.
Here I am–
Bones.
Laying on this bed, staring at the ceiling day after day,
covered in little tubes carrying, I don’t even know what.
While everyone around me is crying and saying their goodbyes,
all I can do is smile and say–

Am I pretty yet?