If only cutting your words out of my head was as easy
as cutting my wrists
Semi permanent reminders of where you hurt me.
where you hate me.
Twisted tales of perfection have thwarted what you
see.
contorted what you say.
you let them tell you to fit a perfectly insurmountable
goal.
flawlessly told me i was flawed.
drained i was consumed by your words i gave them
power and they crushed me.
flat. the fingers the fingers your words pushed down
my throat,
my insecurities spewed across the toilet bowl,
if only.
-illustration by Cathy Knight-
little red riding hood enters her bedroom
it’s been a long day
she walks up the stairs
wipes the paint off her face
gets rid of her ruby red cape
finishes the muffins she was meant to give to her gran
looks in the mirror
stares blatantly at a reflection she cannot recognize
she thinks to herself things that every teenage girl - whether
they’ve had a near death experience with a wolf or not-
has thought:
Oh what a big nose you have
all the better for others to tease you with
using your pre-possessing features as weapons
each taunt a bullet to your heart
Oh what big thighs you have
all the better to hide them under baggy clothes
anything to hide the fat around your bones
Oh how much you wish it was just bones
Oh what a spotty face you have
all the better to cover with makeup
cake your face with the perfect qualities
you so wish you were born with
Oh what ugly body you have
all the more reason to wish the wolf had gobbled me up the first time he ever saw me step through the door
because now I fear
the real monster
is me