I don't know when
I first thought
I was un-beautiful.
Maybe it was when
He chose her
Over me.
Maybe it was when
my dad
called me a slut.
I feel un-beautiful.
My stomach aches
As I push the bowl away.
Pain erupts in my throat,
As I touch the reflex
Releasing the "poison".
I even began
to make myself
what they called me--
ugliness brought on by metal-slices.
I don't know
When I first thought
I was un-beautiful.
