Advertisement  (turn off)
Do you remember when you were four years old,
When you didn't care about how your body looked.
When you didn't know how it should look.
You didn't care about what you ate or what you weighed.
You didn't even know what perfection was.
You were just purely you.

Who even told you what flaws were?
Who told you what was beautiful,
And what was not?
Who had the audacity to ruin your perfect self image.
And start a world of impossible standards.

Who created the demon inside of you?

The demon that has now taken over your life.
The one that made you care more about the number on the scale,
Or the blemish on your face,
Then your self worth.

The demon screaming inside of you,
Hammering in the message that you will never be loved,
Not unless you meet an impossible list of "perfection".
A list filled with thigh gaps, tiny waists, big eyes and perfect skin.
A list that will tear you apart.

The demon hollows out your insides,
Taking away any joy you had left in your body,
Until there is nothing.
Creating an abyss that will never be filled.

It makes it so all you can think about is everything you are not.
You'd rather starve than eat.
You would rather cut your arms,
Than look at yourself in a mirror.
The demon will not stop until you hate yourself.

Until you loathe your very existence,
And cry yourself to sleep.

It will keep on growing and growing,
until you fade away to nothingness.

You have to take away its power.

Look away from that magazine,
And step away from that scale.
Stop thinking about what your not,
And embrace who you are.

Stop caring about a space between your thighs,
Or a timepiece like figure.
And start caring about you.

Your body is your only home.
Stop treating it like its broken,
Or messy.
Stop trying to clean and fix your already perfect house.

The only one who can kill the demon
Is you.