Shrinking

Sometimes I let myself shrink.

 

Sometimes it’s an accident.

I don’t feel myself contracting

Till I slip out of my clothes.

 

Sometimes it’s on purpose.

I feel the hollow, but ignore it,

Let it grow till its enormous,

Let it grow until I shrink.

 

The girl in the mirror is too tiny,

She won’t look me in the eyes.

This poem is about: 
Me

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