December 20, 2017

Poetry: “Anesthetize”

Trigger warning: Self-harm, suicide. Reader discretion advised.


Hey, Birthday Girl!

The beauty shop promises
A prettier you
As long as you’re comfortable
Flirting with provocation,
And anesthetizing
Your flaws;
The ones only you can see –
Especially when pointed out
With a magnifying glass
By a flock of spiteful,
Secretly self-hating,
Crass classmates
On every social media site
Where you dare to show your face.

“But Mom, everyone has a smartphone!”

Models preen from their shadowed perches
On Instagram-filtered tropical islands.
Perfectly-lined pouts
Pucker with the promise
Of a passionate kiss.
You could be like them,
If only
You could afford the price
Of quality cosmetics,
And enslave yourself
To the insatiable demands
Of an uncaring mirror.
If you could fake a smile,
Maybe people would like you better.

“I told you she looked fat in a skirt.”
“Who does she think she is?”
“She can’t pull off that look to save her life.”

But you do.
You pull it off,
And then they can’t stop talking
About how flawless
Your makeup was,
How stylish you appeared,
How your hair had never looked so shiny,
As it did at the viewing.

“She was in three of my classes.”
“I don’t know why she did it.”
“At least she looks hot now, though.”

You got your wish:
You’re a life-sized doll,
Stuffed with fluid-filling,
Emptied organs weighed
And harvested,
And you’ve never looked
So beautiful
(If beauty is more than skin-deep,
Forget about your pretty personality –
That’s gone, too).

You’ve succeeded in becoming
Totally trendy;
But nobody will give you credit.
After all,
Teens have been killing themselves for years.
Suicide’s always the rage,
Nothing new.
Sad, but true.

Your mom will cry herself to sleep
Every night,
Smelling your pillow.
Your dad will drown his pain
In feeding his addictions.
Your siblings will want
To be just like you:

When you blew out those candles,
Did your wish come true?


© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.

Faker © Jane Bled