Slow Death

From my hair to my legs

Something inside me begs

Mirrors to reflect it

In a way, I get by

Pants made to fit real tight

Lessen looks I might get

Used to it

There’s a mini delay

Between thoughts and what they say

Does this body fit in?

When the answer is no

That’s reason to say so

They choose carefully when

Marrying

Death. Slow death

Slow death