In Fixed

She grows more uncomfortable
With herself
She knows it’s time to change
With each day that passes
She loses more of her name
The pinkness of her breast
now faded to a putrid gray
the softness of her face
rigid as paper mache
She places her hand on her stomach
the bulge that penetrates her psyche
pierces right through her skin
into the barren space on her right
She listens to the radio
And watches the T.V.
Through her own neglect
She’ll never be free
She’s painting the embodiment of perfection
The epitome of beauty on her face
yet she doesn't see its infliction
the wrinkles of premature age
She crawls in her shadow
Trying to lessen her size
She doesn’t even realize
The damage to her knees
Her feet losing ground
As she forgets how to walk
She lies and does sit-ups
Neglecting her mouth
Like some pocrescophobic,
Her stomach is thin
Reaching her bones
Without reaching in
To where super-beings are copies,
Seven feet tall
To her plastic model gods
She's offering up her entreaty
Ah yes, “it’d be wonderful”
As she loses her body
Yasmine Camargo
Enviado por Yasmine Camargo em 27/11/2007
Código do texto: T754786

Copyright © 2007. Todos os direitos reservados.
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Sobre a autora
Yasmine Camargo
Maceió - Alagoas - Brasil, 26 anos
405 textos (15038 leituras)
3 áudios (190 audições)
(estatísticas atualizadas diariamente - última atualização em 18/12/17 09:06)
Yasmine Camargo