Turning Into Porcelion Poem by Victoria Roy

Sitting all alone
Thinking of him

Jealous of her
She is everything
That I long to be

Running through my
Mind how to make
Myself perfect

How to be his
Weight stops to drop
Small lines of control

Start to form on my ankles
Emotions run far past the
Point of a numb escape

But soon enough
I will be good enough for him
Ill be skinny and happy

Perfection
Completion

But he never leaves her
I’m running out of time
And into destruction

Ill never be perfect
Ill never be his