The Pretty Girl (Poem)

The pretty girl tastes like apple juice and peach
I look like I taste like leftover cigarette smoke and bleach
I am not pretty
When I get some self-hatred thoughts
I do this thing where I pick at my skin
I do it until I bleed. I do it anywhere on my body that I see a chance to pick
My face, my boobs, my thighs, my fingers
The pretty girl doesn't have scars all over her
The pretty girl has freckles on her nose
And big blue eyes
I have acne scars that are almost the equivalent of her amount of freckles 
I have green eyes
Which my mom tells me I should be grateful for 
But the only thing I am grateful for is the toilet after a big meal
Oh and the calorie counter on all the packages in my house