Disfigure me.

As I look in the mirror for the 100th time, I'm transfixed.

I see my eye, not Picasso's beauty but features mixed.

How it droops with its ugly lashes sideways unlike the other.

As I pick and prod and poke at myself, I become the butcher.


I have pockmarked acne like pores, sores upon my skin.

I have persistent Desperate Dan stubble all over my chin.

As I look again at my vile reflection I begin to seethe inside.

How I wish I had the genes of a stunner, with pretty blue eyes.


I hide behind No.7 foundation and concealer of the very best.

For it covers all those things I loath, disassociate and secretly detest.

All I tell about my secret obsession, they just try talk me out of it.

They get me therapy; throw themselves into getting me to admit

I'm crazy, I'm deluded, I can't see my rights in a face full of wrong.

You see only in a land of filthy lepers do I have a right to belong.


When I look at my pained reflection I do not see a God given miracle

I see an atrocious disfigurement of a man as I flex repulsive muscles.

Everything about me is disproportional. My genetics are messed within.

I despise free people if only I was. Every morning my fight again begins.


I don't know if you can understand my fears, if only you knew.

I long to be rid of my disease, to be truly beautiful just like you.

Find me a way to dispose of my fixation, to make no more my phobia.

For I am engulfed inside myself with Body Dysmorphic Disorder.