Under Pressure

I can feel the cold stare of a thousand soulless eyes,

Ablaze with scorn and judgment left overt and undisguised,

Assumptions made on looks alone; image is everything,

Perfection unattainable yet still deemed worshipping.

 

I can feel the pressures bearing down upon my back,

Crushing expectations induce shame at what I lack,

External and internal weights contribute to the load,

With buckled knees and weary feet I stumble down life’s road.

 

I can feel the whispers of a thousand hateful words,

Ghostly chatter swooping round my head like vicious birds,

Cold as cutting ice they fly and peck me from behind,

Knifing at my self-esteem and poisoning my mind.

 

I myself am guilty of these words and weights and stares,

Causing harm and hurt that not a single care repairs,

We live life by comparisons and feel urged to compete,

And fight a constant battle that ends only in defeat.

 

Emma H, age 26, 27/01/2017

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