Opinons, Thoughts

     Here I am, dripping with insignificance again. Pretending like I matter when someone else's life is tattered, and I'm acting like these shattered piece can't be put back together. Truth is, they can be; with love.

     And I know that sounds corny, but sometimes that's what a girl wants. To be smothered and doused in sugar and honey and to be touched where you're not supposed to be touched. After that happens, I question whether or not I'm valued, because the truth is: sometimes you give it up, so they just give in.

     Then, you start to exchange words like "I love you" and sometimes it just sounds too good to be true, and sometimes it doesn't sound as good as it used to. I used to smile and that would make him happy, but now he sees my face on a screen and stares at it wondering if it's worth going clean for. Because this naive face just can't understand the meaning of escape.

     But she's not naive, oh no, she just can't understand why you'd want to run, instead of facing those problems head on. But there she goes again, acting like her opinion matters, but she's just a girl who's shattered pieces can still be put back together.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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