Facial Dysmorphia

 

I feel safer hidden, safer unexposed. 

It’s easier to wear a mask, 

To hide my face, hide all emotions.

I am able to cry and have it come off as laughter. 

Only my eyes show,

The one part of me I like is visible.

Mirrors morphe me.

They shine a spotlight on my flaws.

My flaws, 

My f*cking flaws. 

My face.

My thighs.

My stomach.

My voice.

My curves.

My entire being.

The way I am perceived controls me.

The way the world looks at me decides if I will spend my time stuck in anxiety.

My mind is spiraling out of control every time I see my face.

My own face scares me.

It doesn’t look right.

It doesn’t feel right.

I wonder what I really look like.

What my body looks like to those around me.

From my eyes, it’s all wrong.

I am used to not eating.

Used to being hungry.

The numbers don’t lie.

I’m getting so tired. 

I’m starting to fall asleep.

But I don’t want to wake up.

But I have to be okay.

I have to be okay for my parents, for my sister.

I have to be okay for my friends.

For the people I know that aren’t, the people that need more help than me. 

I have to.

I feel safer hidden, safer unexposed. 

It’s easier to wear a mask, 

To hide my face, hide all emotions.

I am able to cry and have it come off as laughter. 

Only my eyes show,

The one part of me I like is visible.

Mirrors morphe me.

They shine a spotlight on my flaws.

My flaws, 

My f*cking flaws. 

My face.

My thighs.

My stomach.

My voice.

My curves.

My entire being.

The way I am perceived controls me.

The way the world looks at me decides if I will spend my time stuck in anxiety.

My mind is spiraling out of control every time I see my face.

My own face scares me.

It doesn’t look right.

It doesn’t feel right.

I wonder what I really look like.

What my body looks like to those around me.

From my eyes, it’s all wrong.

I am used to not eating.

Used to being hungry.

The numbers don’t lie.

I’m getting so tired. 

I’m starting to fall asleep.

But I don’t want to wake up.

But I have to be okay.

I have to be okay for my parents, for my sister.

I have to be okay for my friends.

For the people I know that aren’t, the people that need more help than me. 

I have to.


This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741