Self Objectification
Fuck you. God, fuck you.
The indescribable joy I feel,
He says body is something of beauty.
How loved I felt, how worthy of it.
He told me he couldn’t stop staring,
My figure, my movements, myself.
Now I feel nothing less than disgust,
The fact that he looked at me as an item.
I am more than that.
Aren’t I?
Is it my fault for being perceived this way,
If it is me who chose to present it?
