It started with hair,

and a little less sleep.

Hot irons burning me into submission.

Then came the skin.

Too red from the sun,

too quick to flare, easily aggravated. just like the rest of me.

I stayed inside, stayed away, stayed fair.

It continued with growth.

Summer turning a budding flower

into a weeping willow.

And that willow did bend, in attempt to shrink.

Shoulders hunched and back sore, a curl into myself each day a little more.

It ended with hunger.

Comments and eyes turned weapons

until I became a weapon to myself.

Carving out a little more, trying a little harder.

They call it will power.

This is how bleeding leads to beauty,

and i've been bleeding since I was little.

Reclusive

Ravenous

Cowering.

A fever dream from fatigue,

but i've always been a beautiful dreamer.