TW: self-harm, body horror, body issues

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sometimes I wonder whether the world is just telling me to stay home.
to keep my thick thighs under my doona where they belong.
to stare salivating at too-small dresses that would cost a fortnight’s worth of meals
and maybe an arm or leg on top, and arrive too late anyway.

(if I cut off my limbs I’ll be thinner, right?)

sometimes I wonder whether the world is just telling me to stay home.
to keep my clumsy toes in fuzzy socks where they won’t get hurt.
to dream of squeezing them into pumps, pointed and painful all over,
and of a magic drink to cure a mini-phobia, acro- and agora-.

(if I cut off my toes I’ll stop tripping, right?)

sometimes I wonder whether the world is just telling me to stay home.
to keep my airtight chest in bed, out of the cold.
to wish for cloud castles and pray for easy breathing
and instead pile my pillows high, high, over my head.

(if I cut my own throat I’ll stop wheezing, right?)

well world, I’m here to say
don’t worry – I already know.
and I won’t make a big deal of it,
no protests or rallies here
(as if I could even rally myself against this).
you don’t have to tell me where I’m not wanted.
you don’t have to rub it in.
and you needn’t worry;

I’ll stay home.

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