Fractured Reflections: The Prison of Poisoned Perfection

Thin but thick these standards make me sick.
 Spending every hour comparing to those in power, with curves in the perfect places and Not a single blemish across their faces.
Not too skinny but not too fat, when will I look like that?
I skip my meals hoping it conceals the parts of me that aren't enough.
I stare at the labels calculating and debating what it will take to burn off the shame I consumed.
I stuff my face until I'm full, realizing I lost Control.
I run, run away from the unworthy number displayed across the scale.
Gliding that crisply sharpened blade across my skin hoping one day I will win.
With every meal I skip, every imperfection I hide is never enough to fix what is burning on the inside.

- Ella Hawton