TW: Remembering bad things people have said to me (about how I look and some slight bullying)

I sat in the tub, knees pulled tight,

warm water falling, soft as night.

But inside my head, the voices rang,

echoes of all the pain they sang.

"You should eat more, boys like curves,"

"A small ass? That'll strike their nerves."

"Don't worry, she's just mean," they said,

as if my feelings didn't need to be read.

I remember the street, the stares that came,

"That's why you don't wear crops," Mom's claim.

As if my clothes were the crime that day,

not the man's eyes who looked my way.

"Eat more," they said, a constant refrain,

but nothing would fill this hollow pain.

Laughter followed, "Ha-ha, your hair,"

each word a cut I couldn't bear.

Two slaps, sharp, across my face,

their sting still lingers, won't erase.

And the boy who broke my heart with ease,

"It was a dare, you fell for me."

I stepped from the bath, water cold on skin,

and faced the mirror, where I stared within.

Tears filled my eyes, couldn't keep them in place,

as I yelled at myself, voice laced with disgrace:

"Shut up!" I screamed at my own reflection,

but my mind spun wild with recollection.

Every word, every hit, every taunt,

a ghost inside me, forever to haunt.