Perfectly Human

Trying to understand complex subjects… one failure at a time.

The poem was written on September 18, 2024. The 40 line, free-form poem is in rough-draft form – not to be confused with a first draft. This piece evolved into other drafts that will be shared at a later date. The theme of the poem is once again “Beauty.”

The poem reflects an individual struggling with their self-image in a way that manifests as dysmorphia. The harsh imagery and language were used intentionally to inspire thought. It was written while researching body dysmorphia in various groups of people, for public health class assignments.

The most common forms of dysmorphia are seen in individuals with eating disorders and broadly across the transgender community. In truth, the poem aimed to try to bridge my own understanding of transgender individuals’ feelings. Of what they may experience when the mirror reflects what they don’t feel on the inside. The poem used the perspective of women who suffered from body shaming induced dysmorphia.

The original poem was written in first person perspective. That, raised alarms with other’s, about my wellbeing. As did many other poems written during the Health and Beauty contemplation period. 🤔😁🤪


Once upon a time 

Long ago, when she thought 

She was beautiful 

And special, unique –  

Blissful ignorance.  

Rose-colored glasses  

Covered her eyes, to  

Show glimmers of herself 

Like a mirage in 

The desert, lost and 

So hopeful that it 

Really was true. She’s 

Pretty, thin, happy. 

Falsehood, deception  

Of the mind, tricked 

Thinking flesh is thin 

Or too thick, never 

Can tell. These mirrors 

Always so confusing, 

Ever-changing but 

Uglier. Eyes are 

Deceivers, screaming 

Loudness booming from 

Echoes in her skull. 

The mirror, no truth. 

Yet again, almost  

Looks like she has it 

Together – total 

Lie, she sees a blimp 

Five-hundred pounds, that 

The scale doesn’t read. 

Her eyes and mind, are 

Hijacked by same old 

Insecurities 

Blinding her. Left with  

just her ugliness, 

Perhaps vanity. 

What will set her free? 

To vanquish the ghost 

That always remains… 

The weight of insecurity.  


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