Poem: Fight

It doesn’t matter what’s wrong or what’s right.
If you go left, I’ll go right.
I don’t want anyone to know I cry at night,
So that’s why I always put up a fight.

I’ll fight on a Monday, I’ll fight on a Tuesday.
I’ll fight when you choose-a-day,
Cuz for me, it’s never a -lose-day.
Atleast not in your eyes.
But perhaps inside mine.

See, although I try and hide it,
Truth is, I really am quite shy.
I really do get tired,
Of keeping up this lie.

See, I feel like you will feel I’m weak.
If I were to go weak at the knees,
Would you expect me to kiss your feet?

I dare not kiss my own self-esteem,
For fear of being seen as an obscene wannabe Queen.
But, perhaps I’ve got it all wrong.
To care for yourself is not vain or self-centered.
A love for thine self should surely be unmeasured.
Unweathered and treasured.
Or atleast I would hope.
But not merely know.
I would give anything up,
Just to give this a go.

The meaning behind the poem: In a society where no-one wants to seem big headed, where compliments are brushed off in a heartbeat, it can lead some of us into a downward spiral of self-loathing. Just as body dysmorphia can make someone unhappy with their external appearance, low self-esteem can make someone belittle themselves from within. My poem highlights my inner antagonism at a stage in my life where I truly didn’t like myself enough to even go to the shop to buy food. I sat on my bed and just wrote this from an honest place. I use to be a very angry person, angry at myself for not caring about my own well-being at all. I thought I’d hide my insecurities be being angry with others, being defensive so I didn’t appear weak. I’ve learnt the hard way from this and as a result have taken steps to better myself and most importantly be kind to myself so that I can be kind to others.

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