on the verge of falling away

That feeling never goes away. The part where I degrade myself to the lowest standard.
Where the word fat, does not even come close to describing me.
I hate myself all the more, and I wonder why can't I be prettier?
I absolutely loathe that feeling and I wish I was stronger to look past all that.

Nobody wants a book whose cover is dark and coated in dust.
Everybody else wants a book with gold gilded on its covers and filled with an array of colours.
But little do people know, that the black covered book with dust hides the most fantastic of stories.
Of words that were sewn together to describe a world unlike any other.

I'm that book covered in dust.
And I honestly wish some people would flip the pages first before they judge.

I know she's pretty, and I know she's sweet.
But that doesn't mean I can't compare and I should lie in the shadows whilst everyone else dotes on her.

I'm human too.