Not A Swan Poem by Alyssa Lynn

Never your ideal girl, no matter how much I try that bar is far too high; the number on that scale is far too large in your eyes. So change me, maybe then happiness will occur. So cut me make me fit, I must fit into your little box I must become your ideal. What’s so wrong with how I am? Why must I change?

When will you be pleased? When I’m nothing but a shell? Use me; make me crawl until you realize I’m left as nothing at all. Does it matter that I’m happy? Does it matter that I like who I am? I will never be your dress size I will never be your ideal. I don’t want to be the girl who conformed; I don’t want to be her.

Correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t there enough skeletons out there? Is it so wrong to want to be a individual? What happened to confidence, what happened to being proud of your baby girl? Can’t you see this has the potential to eat me up alive, absorb me through my inner being.

So tell me should I force myself fit, force myself not to eat, force myself to pick up the diet shake far from food? When will I be your ideal? When will your 'baby' be a swan not the almost not ugly duckling? I don’t see it like you do, I don’t have your eyes, call it misinterpretation, call it misunderstanding, whatever you call it you can’t call it me.