It would be much easier,
If it were the outside that counted.
I can fix my thighs
And my stomach.
I can stretch my skin thin
so my pretty bones show.
I can put on makeup
to hide my sad eyes.
But nothing will fix
the disaster on the inside.
Nothing will cover up
the scars left on my heart,
or the damage to my lungs,
from the times I couldn’t breathe.
Nothing can heal
the stomach that i emptied
or the burn marks
from the fire you lit in me.
And nothing in the world
will fix the scars i got
from the girl inside me
trying to claw her way out.
Out of the pretty body
that didn’t match the disfigured insides.
Clawing to no avail
at the pretty tomb,
that was beautiful on the outside.