Perfection is less onerous
Than the burden I carry. Housework
is easier than loving myself.
But you don’t expect this of me like
The way you don’t expect me to disappear into thin air.

So I smile, as if my today was my
Last day. The two dimple smile, my
Well-being and my confidence are
No more than a practiced facade that
fades by sundown.

Insecurity. I carry it on my shoulders as my
Daily reminder than I can never truly love myself
I stumble and scrape my limbs but my smile
Never falters.
No one can hate me
More than I hate myself.