'Why can't you be like your friend?'

I’m sorry they’re a 

perfect specimen 

of 

perfect human, and

woven webs of 

beauty.

That I am not

good enough

to clutch your 

hand,

and feel 

proud.

Because my friend

will always be 

better

and your standards 

let her

win

this battle.

The battle between

myself,

my body
,
and realising
we

are

nothing.