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Why cry, pretty Vanessa? Why stay away? Nothing that I did for you Could ever make you content. You felt that you would be better off without me, Yet I still see you crying. .
There is only one way to love. We work and work and still we fail Taking our breaks and trying to resolve Only to leave each other and devolve We're cheated and hurt, hoping for someone Different.
You say you see something pretty in me Like nothing you have ever seen before Maybe it's the fact I see myself all the time. But I see nothing at all when I look at me.
I never understood the word moonbeam until I saw one. A stream of milky white on a canvas of dark and unforgiving ocean. The moon seemed to paint a streak down the middle as if someone had dropped the paint brush.
Skin, smooth and tan, a glow That the sun envy’s and the skies adore A look so divine that I’ll never know Curly hair delicately intertwined
It’s time to watch the fireworks As they fill the sky with light these small controlled explosions That seem to split the night They remind me of my childhood and of patriotic dreams
How to be pretty if you are unfortunate with your looks; a WikiHow Be realistic, are you “ugly” or just simply average? Average is normal
Am I pretty now? You told me I need makeup, You can hardly tell it is me anymore, Am I pretty now? You said I needed to lose some weight, Well i have, now I'm anorexic, Am I pretty now?
What a beautiful weapon she is. She's the sharpest edge and the prettiest sight, The softest, sweetest bringer of night, And all with a teasing kiss. What a beautiful, beautiful weapon she is.
The thoughts that hide within the back of the mind The words we think but not say Of the people not heard when they speak
When I was young I used to want to be a singer But my mother said, Mija that job is not for you Successful singers are not usually brown, Try something else. So I wanted to be a baker and open up my own Panadería.
I spill all these Constellations from My starry mouth, And pretend it doesn’t hurt, When I see you more enjoying the moon. -ajh.
What is love Love is a chemical reaction Love isn’t black eyes and bruised cheeks Love is gentle caresses and soft kisses on Sunday mornings
imperfection is a pimple. an irregularity, red and raised in the middle of your face when you are 11 to you it is unfamiliar so you buy concealer
Hair. My hair is beautiful. I have the hair of a princess. Long and flowy, and shines in sun; perfect in every way I deserve the hair of a princess. 100 brush strokes every night
As I sit there stroking the strands of lickorish silk from your head, I think of our future, the things we would do, the things would see,
The more we talked the less we found strangers of ourselves, And the more we remembered, Remembered about how perfect this world was becoming, A tingly warmth invaded my body like flame meeting steam
There once was a beautiful queen She had skin like honey, eyes like emerald, and hair as big as cotton candy. She was so beautiful and kings traveled far and wide to make her their bride.
Peter Pan The boy who refused to grow up To never become a man And to never give up So he choose to run
There is something strangely comforting About standing in the dark Overlooking New York City In a park across the bay In the dead of winter
Clockwise. The time ticks away, Fast yet slow. Minutes ticking by, Second trudging along. Time moves clockwise, It seems. You slip into old mistakes As time continues to tick.
See, society has taught us that everyone is beautiful in their own way You know, except the ones with no thigh gaps and no chiseled cheeks The ones who don’t have collar bones or a flat tummy
Glowing luminescent in the Soft dark sky, A golden claw hangs. A perfect, untouched rose In a garden of withered grasses. A shining crescent, ever alluring,
There's a battle out there- this world's got a scheme To take the 'you' and replace it with 'me' That's what they call the Hollywood machine- It just starts with one flaw may never have seen
I never thought I was pretty, My hair is messy, My thighs are fat, I’m not liked by boys. So what am I? Am I ugly? Am I fat? Or am I both? But then again,
I've been innocent since forever But forever never came So I've been lying in this bed awake While my dreams chase after me They've been calling out my name As I look back at their stitched mouths
Your so pretty. Your so smart. Your so pretty. Your so smart. It seems almost like an constant pattern If your pretty then your alright because you becoming, an matern.
dear world, and people that love math, and shapes, and lines and boxes, I think you should know that these things are dumb and pointless. (except circles)
This girl was crazy But she looked like a mountain daisy. Her brown curly hair Made her blue eyes be stared. She was the clown of the group So she was kept in the loop
They always tell you what you cannot and cannot be, I never focused on them, I focused on me. Yes, maybe I like to read my books instead of party,
I am not dumb I am not stupid I am not weird I am not useless I am smart I am witty I am fun I am pretty I am important
The lens of her minds eye is tinted
A girl of just fourteen Decides to go lean Little by little stop the meals Skip the breakfast Take the heel A moment on the lips A lifetime on the hips A year passes She's underweight
Eyeliner accents the eyes of a woman who seeks. Stilettos and the finest dress compliment her silhouette.
I have freckled cheeks and chapped lips. I have never known what to do with my hair, and I'm sure I sweat my makeup off before lunch everyday. I am not pretty. Because pretty is a flower,
Who am I behind the camera lens? I constantly take pictures with my friends. Everyone that looks at my Instagram thinks I'm going ham.
Behind the filter I am Sylvia. Behind the likes and "thumbs up" I am Lucy. Before the mascara I am a daughter. Named by my free spirited parents' Name sake of shimmering light in the forest.
I'm not like the other girls, I don't cake on makeup, I don't wear dresses and skirts, I don't need to.
What do I look like? I tend to think I am like most girls my age. I am a plain 5'2 and my hair will never be as long as I would like. My skin has bumps and hair that I certainly am not proud of. But what do I really look like?
Reliance on your reflection in the mirror
Beauty is in the Eyes of Society Growing up, I was never skinny; my skin was dark and all I wanted was to be pretty. I was 10; looking at magazines, seeing all of the skinny girls
I'm perfectly and wonderfully made
I see the magazine in the store,
When I was young I was teased and called burned
Flowers are pretty, just like me. Flowers smell nice, just like me. Flowers can dance in the wind, just like me. Sunflowers turn where the sun sure shines. Like a sunflower, I find myself
When you tell a girl she’s pretty she’ll paint a smile on her face so she won’t look in the mirror and see her life was a waste When you tell a girl she’s pretty on compliments she’ll feed
I look in the mirror You know what I see? Such an unhappy girl Staring back at me. She sits and she stares Waiting for something to change Too much darkness to bare That nests in her brain.
There are those who cherish their family. There are those who cherish their friends. But for some, like me, they are one. My friends are my sky full of stars.
you are not pretty.
Pretty little thing
The Butterfly,is so vibrant, so enchanting, and so pretty!
Girl stands alone in her bathroompleading for solace.Eyes lock on the mirror,the reflection of a girl with possibilities a mere stain.She is there,she exists,in every corner that Girl turns.
When I look at their faces, Drenched in perfection, When I flip the pages, I look into their eyes, like they're masked in disguise, they look so ideal, This cannot be real,
Fat Girl in the buffet line,Fills half of her plat
Why stand alone when the battle is nearly won Why stand alone eventho the odds are against your will
“Mirror, mirror on my wall Who is fairest of them all? I know it not to be me With how I look, how could it be? I am not thin or sweet or smart. I do not look like a piece of art.
No color is more beautiful than the otherBut, I'm "pretty for a darkskin girl"So, I'm always separated from any other.
Rude looks and cynical murmurs are deflected by the array of metaphors and smart jargon that pretty people will never see beyond because I write to dig to the bottom of issues, yet
Social society deems me imperfect – just another product went defective I try to ignore the pressure but the cover of the magazine holds me captive Yet here we are in our Photoshop world with our newly made disguise
Pick me not a flowerAs though that were all I amA quickly fading pretty thingJust a trinket in your hand
Disparge the innocent, laudable overachieve/ The real world will masticate her eventually/ Avoiding the fiasco of life will soon catch up with the doe-eyed and free-spirted/ only the good die young, my pretty/ One dubious thought, one regret/ One
(poems go here) Looking at her with her Chinchilla fur. Lady of Guidance and Grace only to shut you down in your face. With her arrogant brow she demands all to take a bow .
It would say: For eyeliner, mascara, blush, and concealer, All there for girls appeasement And there magical purpose Remains to bring about disguise
Feelings. internal Expressions. external The vastness of the mind. immeasurable All the reason why. Unfathomable How do you begin understand something. Untamed How do you understand your self. Deranged
I feel strong But I feel weak I feel proud, Yet I feel bleak I feel gorgeous And grotesque I feel pretty When I’m dressed I see fair girls But I wonder Are they really
A reflection I am fat. I am ugly. All of these imperfections. I need to be perfect. I don't eat. Fat equals ugly. The mirror tells me so. My reflection stares back at me. Disgusting.
I just want to be pretty. I don’t want to be bangable, hot, sexy. No. I just want to be pretty. I want to be that girl that people can fall in love with at first sight. I want to be that girl that people get lost in when looking into my eyes.
In this shell, Anger prevails. Multitudes exact judgement on me, Before they know my soul. Existential wisdom is lost on them, As their thoughts have already been consumed. Utopia preoccupies their minds,
Hey you, over there.