That’s what my mind is best at,
Playing hide and seek
And telling me lies about my own image.
What I see is mostly false,
I rarely see myself at all,
Pointing out every flaw,
The self-criticism never stops.
I hardly get a moment to breathe,
I am my own worst enemy.
How many pounds have I gained?
Any number is too big.
And when will I be good enough?
When will I notice what I love?
When will I not hurt to touch?