Dysmorphia Poem by John F. McCullagh

To others, she appeared so fair,
Her blonde hair long and silky
Her eyes intelligent and kind,
her complexion clear and milky.

She saw herself quite differently
in the mirror of her mind.
She thought her breasts a lttle small,
with a much too large behind.

So, unhappy with her looks,
she stayed apart, alone.
She turned down dates from hopeful mates
and stayed most nights at home

So she sought out the surgeons knife
to perfect her derriere.
The infection that she died from
is, fortunately, quite rare.

Our ladies should be happy
with the gifts that nature gave.
Not risk all on a tragic end
while being Fashion's slave