An aroma of incensed candle, Fairy lights and a dim-lit mirror, I loom vanward with inklings that trouble, As a chill creep down and I shiver. "You're exquisite!" I proclaim to myself,
Resounding my heart and soul. My reflection snickers hysterically, Persuading me I slur and play a game so foul. It blurts "Perceive your red cheek, The skin shrouded beneath tummy fat. You're hideous feeble, tiny and weak, It's time you begin telling yourself that." Maybe it's veritable 'cause there's not a single day, I am not condemned for my skin, fashion and weight. It persuades me to presume I'm not pretty, cheerful and gay, Making it weary to reckon straight. But then who's the mirror - a mere tool, To tell me how I look, who I am or fat shame. I know myself finer than a fool, For I am a bright freakin' flame! I am pretty, I am smart, I am wise! Anyone telling me something different Should think through twice! I am a woman very fierce and tall, A wolf in the wilderness, who gets back up after the fall. So before my mind gets clouded with thoughts so diverse, Let me tell you all, BROKEN GIRLS BLOSSOM INTO WARRIORS.
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