Insecurity

January 2, 2014

Words do hurt.

Call me fat, call me ugly, call me what you want.

But do you know that you are tearing me apart inside?

When I look at myself in the mirror,

I am picking and pulling at parts of me.

Trying to find the wrong that you have implanted this false into.

You judge me by the tone of my skin,

the length of my hair, the way I annunciate my words, and the tags on my clothes.

You are the epitome of my insecurities.

How would I doubt myself if you didn't put the doubt in me?

Everyday I wake up trying to please a void in my being,

but little do I know it will never be filled until

I shut the false out and let go of my insecurities and become myself.

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