My Porcelain Throne

I kneel down before the porcelain throne,

Seeking the body shape you think I should own.

I’m all alone.

Counting calories, watching my weight,

Trying to lose the figure you hate.

Slam my fist in the mirror

Because I can’t find “You’re perfect.”

How much more can I lose? Will it ever be worth it?

See the blood on my hand, something new is awoken.

It’s the same blood I had back before I was broken.

My reflection falls down, but my eyes still last

They hold the ghost of a happier me in my past.

A shard of glass is the pick

To the lock

On the chains

That you’ve bound me in.

Light the wick,

Start the clock,

Fight the pains

This time I will win.

Now I’m free.

And I’m not perfect.

I’m just me.

But I’m beautiful.

This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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