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by Esther King about a year ago in sad poetry
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Self Image

I've spent years staring down at the shoes

of those who walk so confidently,

my head heavy from the weight of my thoughts

silencing me into obscurity.

I was a blur,

a phantom unnoticed by society

but couldn't look in the mirror

without bleeding from the shards

of broken self imagery.

Doubt penetrated me like shrapnel

embedded under the skin.

Unhealed wounds cut deep

leaving me in a pool of imperfections.

As everyone else seemed to speed down a glimmering path of realization,

I was stuck,

too busy falling apart

to notice the road was paved with shattered glass

in a world full of scars.

sad poetry

About the author

Esther King

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