“Borderline Dysmorphia/Dysphoria”

A exploration of identity, self-perception, and the internal battles of a mind at war with itself.

Should I write again so soon?
I know my soul spills more freely in poems,
Where dysphoria claws, body shrinks in disdain,
Hatred like bile, rising as I stare at this vessel,
A twisted reflection, unworthy of sight.
I lock myself away, dimming the lights —
How dare I confront my own skin?
All I see is a mistake.

Fear stalks me,
The thought that new eyes might fall upon me,
Seeing me when all I crave is solitude.
Is it the terror of being seen?
Or simply the dread of failing to connect?
So, I write — words flowing where my voice falters,
For I cannot trust my tongue to get it right.
And so, I sit,
Writing with regret, wanting to live.

Envy drips its poison through my veins,
For I haven’t lived as they do,
They who know what it means to exist,
While I weep alone.
I want to live,
I want to be free…