I want to be beautiful, she said.
Then they'll love me.
The ones who pulled my hair,
Tugged at my hand-me-downs,
Tore open the wounds made fresh,
day after day.

My frizzy hair,
I feel like they have trapped me.

In reality, it was the people.
THEY trapped me.

Who was I to walk away from a fight?
A fight that would ask me to step up.
Be a man.
I'm not... a man.
I'm a teenage girl.

So I will not walk away.
I will conform.
new clothes,
cut off my hair.
I look better- feel better.

The attacks keep coming.
Now even from my "friends".
Why have I changed?
Why am I new?
"We liked you the way you were..."

I liked myself the way I was.
This new person has control now.
Prim, proper.

No longer to I pretend my bike is a horse.
That I am a princess and my house is a castle.

No longer do I play with dolls.
I'm too old for that.
I've been too old for that for a while.

One year away from being an adult,
and yet,
I've felt like an adult for 5 years already.
Those people, those "friends",
those bullies...
changed who I am.

My virtually nonexistant self esteem is trying to grow,
what will my new friends think of me next year?
Will they like this girl?
Still prim,
Still proper.
I'm getting ready.
I'm not strong...

But I'm trying to forget.



Wow, I really enjoyed this poem. The story is something that I can relate to.



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