What is Real

Do you know what it was like
Growing up with a mother
Who hated her own body
What it was like being 6 years old
Hearing her talk about how fat and gross she is
Having her tell you you’re the reason why
Even if she said it as a joke
You were the reason she hated herself
Do you know what it was like
Sitting next to her promising yourself
You would never be unhappy or fat
Can you imagine promising yourself that at 12
Do you know what it was like never being good enough
Never smart enough
Perfect or nothing.
And I tried to be perfect
But in that I became nothing
So my demons were born the same as me
I’m wrong.
And since I can’t be perfect
I guess nothing is second best
And that seems to be my place at best
None of it is real.
Nothing that I feel
Is real.
Can I be real?

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