He looks in the mirror and no longer sees himself 

he sees a fat girl. 

he sees an unwanted soul 

he sees a disappointment 

he feels burning in his thighs

It stings 

he can see a broken reflection staring back at him

 it isn't his own hes trying to stay afloat but hes swimming through lava its burning his flesh. He likes it, his stomach grumbles, food in his mind but he doesn't eat. 

He feels fat. 

Fat. 

Fat! 

Ugly.

 He feels...disgusting.

 Awful. 

Feels UNWORTHY of his title of crush. 

Who would actually love this broken toy? 

Who would love this broken...thing. 

He's been called it so many times he's starting to believe it. 

It.
 
It is an object.

It is only an object I mean he is only an object. 

I mean I am only an object. 
 
I am an object for you to play with. 

Toy with.

Break.

Try to fix with empty compliments and food I don't want or need. 

Do you see me?

I am something everybody pretends to know but they only know my name. 

They don't know or at least they don't respect my pronouns. 

Dancing around he like it's a grenade without pin in it. 

Walking on eggshells thinking I'll break. 

 But you can't break what's already broken.