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I’ve tied my body to someone else’s for so long Sewn my hands to another’s back But now, I look down at the scars From ropes and staples and thread
She has arrived, she’s beautiful, scarred, humbled, and wise. Most of all this woman is alive. She walks with a hint of pride, but not too proud to admit her missteps. Mistakes and lessons dance in harmony a 2-step.
I‘m holding the keys, I'm driving this car. Played games, pushed me way too far. I’m setting higher standards, and raising the bar. New beginning for me, mind my business from afar.
A day out of 366 Stars spun around and spanned My words spiced with salts of a hysterics The loneliness of which is damned But joy I keep, is even And when I sip, the life goes on
Some find it hard choosing between heart and head, even when the perpetrators don’t deserve
Tingly, sensation running through my body Excitement coursing in my veins The unknown is everything before me What has passed sets a foundation for today
I’m a little too much of the same thing I run on the railway lines That roll as straight and narrow As the razor-sharp wire I Am constantly using as a tightrope
It begins as a small seed Lodged in your ear Blocking all sound Soon, the roots spread Little brown threads reach down into the canal
Dear mane, I used to be ashamed to say that you’re mine On the playground, getting harassed with questions like: “Were you born with braids on your head?”, “How does it grow so fast?”,
Some girls say that they’re not pretty, and staring into the saliva, mucous, and broken down bits of food swimming in the toilet bowl like fish in a porcelain fishbowl
Today I’m talking about the experience of growing It’s hard. Learning to evolve. Learning to be strong But I am vital. I am loved. And today, I am glowing.
I wear lightning strikes on my hips and thighs as battle scars to remind me who I am, and what I have overcome.
Sometimes it's hard to admit that you need to change, Because your mind is trying to convince you that you need to stay the same. It's not easy to face the reality and admit that something is not right,
How do I be kind to myself? Should I stay and fight the fight? Is it really worth the fight?
do you know the word home? do you know what it means? do you know what it smellstastessounds like? do you know what it feels
Alarm rings; It’s time to wake up. I view myself in the mirror. Why can’t I look better? My head is a war zone.
You are no longer at my side. You are gone, the one who promised me you were here to stay. I mourned in the weeds, damaged and broken. Strength lost. Sunlight producing no more color for me.
“forget your perfect offering just ring the bells that still can ring there is a crack in everything that’s how the light gets in” -Leonard Cohen
She was born from fire.AndFrom those ashes she rose.burnt skin-Burnt skin that sizzled down like gift paper that had been thrown into the fire.
Lemons My mother has never liked the taste of lemons. They are too sour, displeasing. That’s probably why she doesn’t like me.
Constantly surrounded by weeds weeds of doubt and depression they slowly consumed my nourishment for them to win is for me to lose My life
As a child I saw the beauty that was, simply put, not me. The other little girls in their pretty pink dresses and white ribbons seemed somehow more, better, and I
came to the house early my first house party first of the twelfth month stayed long after it was done after the first handshake, the thought of me was a flake unwanted unneeded
Color, body, shape, and size That's all our eyes see today, we just don't realize The pain that we cause when we all stare At the way someone dresses or how they do their hair
Dreaming is easy. Attainable in the mind. It's terrifying to wonder if those dreams will remain thoughts. Swimming in my head are the insecurities I fought everyday.
Judgment circles Starring, giggling, pointing Criticism blasted at those who differ than they Inner Struggle breaking, crying, stressing Self love starting to bubble from within me Bubble pops
What are you so afraid of? As if the more I ask, the more I will become overnight. As if a shooting star could shine among the constellations, telling me that they're all wrong.
The sun turned up the volume today, Now we're all covering our ears Call it summer Call it the humidity Call it nowhere's quiet enough,
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
I ran away from myself, paid no heed to my faults and saw all my actions as justified. Until you clasped my hands around a pen and told me to write. We, wrote a list. Another and then a third.
I rewind & rewind. Again, it proves fruitless.
Coming from another poem Onto this page My mind has been opened Praying for my heart to comprehend but then,
I express my identity through poetry. Who I am and who I hope to one day be Bleeds through the tip of my pen In a rush of eloquence, My stream of consciousness.
The words It blurs My eyes are watering. The words It jerks As it shakes in my hand.
My lips are not soft, freshOr new.They are dry and rough,Scarred from self-infliction.
The emotions forming within me need some form of releaseSwirling, seething, the anxious beast lurks beneathTo bury inside what needs to come out, it is a dangerous feat nonetheless
Each night she vacates to the universe in her head, illuminated place that fills the dark vacancy she feels down on earth Unsecure
I am not a beautiful writer. My words do not always flow right; Sound right; Feel right. I know what I think, but putting words on a page-- That is something I do not always know how to do.
most days i don't know what to do with the poems stuck in my lungs. or begin to know how to set them free. there is no air & i've let go of the hope that you would understand
i wouldn’t dare identify as an advocateof self-carebecause of the hatethat i bear
so here begs the question. can one really become ontent in loneliness? we are social creatures after all. but yet we find ourselves alone in the crowded coffee houses that we
i miss the gentle air that was once wrapped around my waist. i miss the softness i'd place in my footprints with each step i'd take. please, please tell me where did that joy go that had
Learning to love yourself is a journey-- mind sways from happiness-- to laying on a gurney-- needing an attorney to defend against the prosecutions of life-- devil sending destruction with little strife-- cuz every milestone you make-- another set
I forgot I’m forgetting I’m forgotten Since I got away from you for solid years, Built up confidence like a Berlin wall that separated my mind from people like you.
I’m a poster child with no more room on the wall, And I want to be the molly ringwald of every situation. The eyes in the back of my head hear you talking bad about me,
I was used to the struggle, the suffering, the pain and disappointments that life kicked out. I thought it was expected to feel neglected, rejected and best to just accept it than let hope replace doubt.
A college grad, a vet, and strong melanin rich queen On the outside looking in, you think I got it all figured out You see my accomplishments and drive I seem motivated and always ready to strive
I wish I could love myself.I wish I could love my eyes.I wish I could love my hair,I wish I could love the millions of freckles on my arms,sprinkled like sugar from when I was four.I wish I could love my hands,
every once in a while i am greeted by the beauty of the Earth. beauty in its rawest form, a never-ending light. the fire of the Earth
I am done with all these Mind games Little tricks And frustrations I am bringing it back to the Closed barriers
Dear Creation, I am at a crossroads with myself a sinner with high standards believing that someday I’ll find happiness with someone
To my ex-best friend That tells everyone she doesn’t know what she did wrong; You built your confidence by standing on top of me, Knowing that I wasn’t strong --
You are beautiful. Death has covered you in a halo, like a saint.
Dear You, Do you remember the way we used to be? I don't, not anymore. Now, I find myself staring at old photos, asking who you were. I remember the days before the separate houses,
Dear Conscience, Do you remember when I was young? Because I can’t seem To fit those pieces together For where I am now
This morning, I noticed something I have such beautiful eyes Which is weird I've never been happy with them Nor sad either I haven't felt any sort of feeling with my eyes Until I looked the mirror
You provide a picture as realistic as can be,Granting people far and wide with the ability to seeWhat others eyes gaze upon day after day.But to keep
Everyday I wake up thinking it's a brand new day But things are the same, it never seems to change Time flies by and my money waves good bye.. But
we are people, not objects or products, not apologies or excusesoften dehumanized and abused, as if we are not your sisters, mothers and daughtersmen have the audacity to mistreat
I love me, I am worthy, I am beautiful, You breathed in those words from 8, And again at 10, As if saying it enough, Saying it hard enough,
Look at your face and your hair's small curls you may not be a stick, but you have the whole world in your hands, between your shoulders, and even in your thighs.
Dear Me, You were so young. Innocent and smart Now everytime I see you, it's like your lost in the dark. She was your light She guided you in the darkest of times
Dear empty bottle of Elmer’s Glue, You are finally empty. I have had one bottle of Elmer’s Glue since I first purchased a bottle for kindergarten,
Dear my old self, I wish you had the commons sense to do better, but in the end you made me better. Your pure heart and your tender ways, All you need was a little backbone and some base.
I wonder if you’ll ever believe, in the gifts I see in you. Gifts so real to me; yet, when I sincerely put forth and say, they often get pushed away.
Dear Me, Listen to, the click click click of power walking up those steps. From her red high heels to her skinny jeans, she ain’t one to cower.
A heaving chest, Quick breaths, You stole the very air from my lungs. A watchful eye, Beautiful surprise, You took my focus for yourself. A thumping heart, Set apart,
Laura Weidemann November 30th 2017 firstname.lastname@example.org Prompt-Write a letter as your future self to yourself now. To Younger self in 2017,
In your early stages of youth, that is the time to find out who are you?
Dear friend, I write because I’m angry. (And I hope you know it’s rare that I spend my frail brain power and the time I cannot spare on something silly, like a poem, but I see no other way
to the one whom gravity holds tightest to, you're an aging collection of thin skin and heavy bones known by a name passed through the lips of few with ribs housing
I'd do anything you'd ask me to, because I love you... Although, I asked for nothing in return; But, for your love too... Who is she! Why is she texting you?! What does she want! Give me all your passcodes.
Because i love you, I let you walk all over me. I forgave your infidelity. I gave you my heart, you replaced it with yours.
Because I love you I accept everything about you both good and bad. Because even with beauty there's always a little bit of ugly. Because I love you I desire to love myself.
Ripped off my dignity, Shamed my endeared purity, All misleading word, Bad decisions, crowds. I dwell in an imagination of, What i would have done differently, How i would have spoken wisely,
Because I Love You, I gave You My hand. I held on Tight. like a Babe to its Mum, like a Newborn to its Blanket, like a Girl to her Dad. Because I Love You, I told them No. I said I was okay,
Because I love you,Everytime I see your face,My heart races likeA jaguar chasing an antelope.It has since I first met you.
I Am Not My Skin But why I can't I be, if being black is my reality I take it with pride and just let it be. We don't get to choose our complexion, but we still need affection.
A humble woe am I With many compassions But no motion for emotion For there is no commotion In this non-amorous notion A lad, Seeking nothing but the joyfulness In everyday animation.
A forbidden word A disgraceful word But an important word We all love to forget We all love to push aside But we must make room for self-respect
lovely girl, my beautiful little lovely girlmy talented, my special bud.you who flowered from my womb one fateful day of July.my sunflower child that brightened the sickly wet season.
Once upon a time....I should have listened to my father Once upon a time I should have listened to him speak. Once upon a time he tried to teach me to love myself But once upon a time, all I wanted was to have feet.
Let me walk my walk. Something bigger is coming my way. I may cring and cry and whine but I refuse to stay where I stay. Tears roll down my cheeks Watering the Earth below If it weren't for my pain
My love is Beautiful My love is Kind. Mantras that I keep in Mind. I am Amazing I am Great I start to feel the ground it shakes. I want to Love To feel my Soul
For years and years I was filled with fear
I finally feel free No ties holding me down I have found What I need to seek It doesn’t seem out of reach Like a painting or a dream It comes to me In flashes, in feelings
I found the feeling of love in a teenage boy, deep in his caramel eyes. The warmth I felt when I stared kept me warm through those cold October nights
Two-thousand and sixteen Crowned one of the worst years in many peoples’ eyes For many it was a year of distress, chaos, uncertainty For me it was a year of self-discovery, growth, and learning January
January...jam, damn so much to fit in. How am I supposed to keep up with school and make new friends?
And just as a seed on a dandelion do not be afraid to lose yourself in the wind and dance around in the air long enough until you find a suitable home
This time last year, the only thing I liked about myself was my persistence. I spent far too many hours crying over who I wish I was, rather than focusing on how amazing I really am
"I would rather have no daughter at all than have you as one." As her words sliced through my skin, I scratched my own behind closed doors. I am stupid. I am ugly. She doesn’t love me.
I’m hastily pinning arteries to the insides of my off-brand cardigan, I dress to be as pretty as she’d thought I’d be. I fear that part of me that smiles when I talk to her.
Some days will be submerged in Déjà vu. Others will be as dark as the thoughts she’s trying to shake. One-minute white pure light surrounds her, the next, hot flames burn throughout her body.
I catch my 10 year old little brother staring down the weighing scale I guess you can say That’s he’s a bit... Broader Beefier Fluffier
The biting exchange of night into morning is here. I lay coldly, intertwined in crimson sheets and tangled hair. Awake from a daze into the new day,
Poetry found me by my bedside table, heart contained within a dimly lit mind, I could not find the light switch. Poetry found a foolish girl, one with storybook hands,
I became a poet when I was born I became an artist when I died Putting ink to the paper helped me feel what was inside As a babe I saw everything around me I'd lose sleep so as not to miss a thing
It's okay to take a break. It's okay to take a breath; inhale and exhale.
Don't hate the girl in the looking-glass what has she done to you? She's done nothing but try to take care of you. Don't pick apart her flaws She made them up for you.
Her heart as deep as the ocean She is mysterious like the other side of the moon Her intellect as bright as the stars Her skin glows like a million suns She is as fierce asa cheetah
You’ve changed.That’s what they keep telling me. You’ve… changed. Of course,you’re right.I’m not thevulnerable,young girlI used to be.
I see with sounds Words a MIXTURE Of thought and outside stimuli I write to bring peace to my mind Link the emotion In my music with word in my mind Rooted in pain Of youth
I wrote this poem to make my brain shut up. I wrote this poem to make my father shut up. I wrote this poem to make John Donne shut up. Shut up, "boys will be boys." Shut up, "All Lives Matter." My blackness won't shut up.
My transition into adulthood has been accompanied by a series of mistakes. I’ve failed friends in their time of need; felt the regret a little too late. I’ve sacrificed my own self worth in trade for boys handing out limitless heartaches. I’ve ind
I absolutely need Love. More than food and air, I thrive on love and attention. Amare. Upendo. Renmen. It drives me and motivates me to live life in a way that is pleasing to all that know me.
nothing changes simply due to the lack of other things be it just me alone on an island or in an office cubicle or in my mind or rather a multitude of others
A Krazy Kahlo and Picasso By Lauren Ward All I Need Is a Painting. A Picasso. Or maybe a Frida Kahlo.
they say God shaped us out of clay, His breath rippling through abandoned parking lots, empty churches, only to strike a chord, ring a bell, sing a song
I am stuck in a space where thoughts are endless Infinate time with no one but myself If I am to survive in a world that I cannot escape, I need to be asured of one thing: my confidence
Beauty in you. We are all human beings. Beauty is what is all underneath No makeup to hide the shame that is inside We all make mistakes,but we have to still try Fight to believe, dream, and achieve
It may have been a Monday evening when you felt your fingertips buzzing at your lips. It was a wind, a gust, of beauty in your anxiety Nail biting eating away at things that do not sense pain.
All my "friends" are gone and I'm left here alone. L o n e l y. They took every piece of me with them. I am nothing without them. I can't breathe. My chest is getting tighter and
If ever I should be alone, A simple, thoughtful creed Is all I'll need to hold my own: That I am all I'll need.
As I grew, I learned to curse this sun kissed skin. It felt like a trap to me, plaguing me as leper- socially condemned being… but after I gazed at my brother, the blackened night sky,
Question the world around you of the truth Be the one to ask, be the brave It is stemmed in your youth That you are meant to be in this cave The truth is what to seek Don’t listen – you aren’t weak
Dear little black girl, wipe your tears Don't let this corrupt world see your fears. Show them your pretty white smile Show them you're important and not just another child.
I used to think things in the world were backwards. I thought nature had gotten things wrong. Like why shadows had to fall behind us. At one point all I wanted to do was hide where no one could see me.
Who Am I? I am not an idea I am not who you want me to be
I am impulsive. I do whatever seems like fun at the time. I am reckless. I do what I want without regards to the consequences. I am childish (sometimes). But aren't we all?
My name sounds better coming from your lips. The way you draw out the syllables and vowels in my name. It sounds new and magical. I am made new. No longer
i used to think that god listened to me when i prayed at night,my knees stained with remorse as i kneeled by my bedside desperately pleading to be absolved of my human
someone once told me that depression was god's way of weeding out the weak as if there were no room in this world for people like me people who can't just "suck it up" and be HAPPY
Resilient. For I can sail my boat despite the chaotic storms. In the dictionary you would find my name, picture, soul next to the definition of resilient. What made me resilient? My battles.
There is a woman in my mind whoseshell grows and crumbles, collapsesand is rebornendlessly. A statue, a castlein some ancient landthat was first etched on archaic blueprints and
When the man I loved tried to commit suicide, I can only describe my pain as having my heart ripped through my chest with hands of barbed wire, broken-glass dreams and smoldering promises.
I am the Sun. I am every ray of light that strikes The Earth. I am eternal. Even amidst the cloud-filled sky, I am burning ever bright. And I will continue to burn,
I am whatever I want to be, at least that's what my parents tell me. But yet I walk down these hallowed halls, people laughing, staring judging
What makes beauty? Do you have to have a skinny waist? Do you have to have expensive taste? What makes beauty?
She was shy, soft spoken, and last but not least she was cautious. Her love for others
I've seen volcanoes erupt and ocean tides change.
He, She, and Everything in Between
When I entered middle school it wasn't quite as I had planned
What does it mean To love yourself first? Well, loving yourself means
You were the rose, but with thorns, One touch and I bled,
I remember when our connection had its first break: I changed so sudden, and the whole time I was feeling your heart break. It was a pain so strong that sometimes I still feel your heartache.
I'd rather be a free, black sheep of a soul or stiffer than a piece of coal than be bound at the neck, wrist, and ankles by the chains of labels and stereotypes
In the darkness you can see not a soul see not a soul but your own so there you are alone with familiar stranger feeling like you're in danger surrounded by who knows what the mystery weighs way too much
Loving is who I am. So loving that they took my love forgranted. Saw my love as a sign as weakness. A weakness that grew into darkness. Darkness that had total control over me.
You're no ordinary girl, you are an extrodinary boy. You're special because you're different. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. They are each common errors.
How does one act white? Do I have to speak proper English and wear nice clothes? Do I have to get good grades and not cuss all the time? If that's acting white, then yeah I guess I act white.
Disapproval scorches me Every step I take. I'm not what they want me to be, And it's a feeling I can't shake. I'm not the peppy, bouncy girl Whose smile lights the day.
You don’t know my name. Tell me now. Why are we sharing the same tears? I stare in your face, Yet I remain invisible.
Your skin, it breathes Your hair, it speaks, Your mouth it loves. You speak gods into the minds of men and your silence shakes the Earth that supports you Its hard to feel awesome, when pain lingers
I think there are some who insulate their walls with a bulletproof misery and call it home Who turn on heel and run from this or that, here or there, that they may not reap what they have sown.
Today people are concerned with falsified images they create a fantasy world where they are king and their followers are their supposed friends. Where acts of friendship are not hugs, but rather “likes”. They reach out hoping for acceptance.
Life scarred by trauma, unconditional self-love,
Fiametta Under the layers of our years, Beneath that wizened crust, sleeps the ageless spirit that once set fire to our eyes.
She told me "you will not be much of anything, People just look right through your frail bones You will never make much of a difference because You will end up very cold naked afraid alone
Words lose their meaning throughlies and deception.They begin as mere plain text with a definition to follow,but soon are tossed around in a batter ofgenerously margined synonyms and false connotations.
I am the trunk of the chopped tree submerged under the weight of trampled earth. I am the dirt underneath your finger nails. I have no polish. I am Sandy's nephew and Katrina's first love.
The impression left on a smooth, glass tabletop can be faded or everlasting. Blowing your breath along its surface and slide nimble fingers across and for an istance, your words,your symbols and your marks
What's nice about me? What do I see? Hell, wouldn't I like to know. The words beauty, flawless, and pretty those aren't words that come to mind
If you say makeup is false advertising, you have never spent twenty minutes drawing a perfectly smooth line along your eye
I am I Corageous but shy Captivated by the birds Who are just like I Stand firm on the ground But seek peace in flight. Whether in darkness or in light. I am I strong willed and kind
for the longest time i was
Sick of this era’s categorization, overanalyzation, and hasty labeling of human beings. They label us all smoothing stickers over our names,
Without filters I can fly While filtered, I was caged up like a dove ... In Noah's Ark Through the filter ... No one could see me waiting I was going crazy My anticipation always waiting
I am a goddess A creation so divine that - galaxies will swirl in my veins- black and blue like a brusie so freshly wrought that the tinges of purple seem to darken the hues
You banished me from my walls Replaced all my tapestries with portaits of you throughout my halls Like this place was some sort of shrine to accomodate you But I am the prodigal son
"Speak softly, moon faced child, so that they do not hear you when you quiver. Let your inhibitions ride you like a dog,
Behind the curtain Beneath the skin it's different than what's in front Out for others to see Eye contact feels like lasers When people are staring, it feels like the world is closing in
Who's hiding behind the locked door? No one seems to hear me. Who's behind the curtain? No one seems to see me. Who's hiding behind mask? No one seems to see who I really can be. Why are you hiding?
I am made of goldSupple and ripe I am embodied venusLike the seas I sway and pull in those who dare to indulge I am unstoppableA queen A goddess Nothing more nothing less
Dirt a substance that goes deep under Incorporating more substances
The street is strolling merrily along when
I made myself in their image by the time I was 13. Squeezed my body into the pieces of their machine. My laugh too boisterous, I learned to snicker. My smile too wide, I snapped it in half.
all i ever am is sorry. the words float around my skull day and night, "I'm sorry." sorry when the back seats are squished because I'm taking up room sorry when I'm talking too loud, too much
All my life I’ve been taught one thing And that one thing was to be tough Ever since I was a tiny human being First, bad words and fists. It was never enough. Having a childhood in my house was never easy
Friends, there for you through good times and bad Sometimes they are the family you ever had. Friends come and go like the wind, Some help you in the midst of your sin.
You keep the past in your back pocket Just close enough, where you might catch it You scrape your knee on the pavement You look down and you hate it But I think that the blood might just sober you up
Behavior is a result of environment and time. I was not born apologizing every time I spoke up. I was a little girl who ran into life like there was no time to worry,
Listen carefully as the sand stirs still in a barren land of thoughts and dreams. How quietly the wind does sing; how distant beingness seems. And there, but one, stand you alone,
Daddy always wanted a little soldier;He wanted his girl to be fierce, and strong.He was a marine, and I never tried hard enough.
Who was I?I was a little girl who went to mass every Sunday and sang “Santo Santo Santo” to the heavens as the salseros played sprightly music in the balcony of the church.
Who was I?I was a little girl who went to mass every Sunday and sang “Santo Santo Santo” to the heavens as the salseros played sprightly music in the balcony of the church.
beauty we see it everywhere we see it in the eyes of a stranger passing us by on the sidewalk
Look at her, look at me; its gold, versus silver, the sun against the moon. Where she shines, I am dim; saught after, and alone, the Beauty and the Beast.
I am told to change. Never to my face. That would be too simple. But in the magazines and the movies and the momentum of society carrying them forward. You are not right. Change.
Some people refuse to acknowledge the limitlessness of their beauty. An indicator of this type of person is the recalcitrance of their shackled acquisition
When I first learned that no one could ever love me more than mea world of happiness previously unseen was discoveredbecause somewhere along the line of aging and scrutiny and timeI was taught to despise myself
I don’t understand why the seasons have to change
To change or not to change that is the question. . .
what if there were no mirrors and she didn't turn on the television mesmerized by fluttering fake eyelashes and airbrushed cheekbones on cloud nine she wouldn't touch her reflection
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt.” What a load of shit this is. Clearly, the people who spew this phrase have never faced daggers of words, have they?
How can beauty be such a talent?
The delicacy of smoke unravels into rivers of gentle flows. Oh! How the appearance resembles that of a shooting star in broad daylight;
I don't want to look death in its sunken face And realize what I've left for the human race To remember me by is nothing but Insecurity and shame, oh it isn't enough I want to leave behind a legend, not even grand
I have a relationship with the sun.I have been growing upward.The roots I have, came from the currents and the moon.And still I grow.I grow stronger with each eclipse.I grow calmer with every sunrise.
Nobody told me that it was okay to speak my mind Not just the fluffy, fuzzy pieces of my mind But the dark corners, the judgments, the truths that sting red against the skin
THE TRUE ME Nashon Kemp
She stares..She stares at her reflection, studies her own face as a stranger. Almost as a new born child seeing her face for the first time. Her skin worn and dry from all the years of living, her eyes caved in with bags of age tugging on them.
If I were on a bridge, I’d jump off. If I had a gun to my face, I’d pull the trigger. If I had a knife close by, I’d stab myself. If I had scissors in my hand,
Lost in a world of rules. Lost in what is said to be cool. Voices screaming how I should be. Voices constantly telling me. Lost looking for the light. Lost in an endless fight. Realization of who I should be. Realization that I am me.
Passion. Sitting in my room, walking in the school hall, or standing outside. Everywhere and anywhere are prime locations fro these feelings we aren't supposed to have.
There is no cure, no acceptance, no understanding, and no answer. Textbooks can only tell you so much, and unless you have lived it, it is near impossible to judge from the outside.
Sometimes there are disruptions with the true beauty in life Those once in a while moments "Are my front teeth crooked? My arms are too flubby! Why do I have such ugly dark circles?!"
I'm small. And I've got kinks, in my hair, in my spirit. I'm small and I'm odd. My mind developed a bit differently; it was both constrained and released,
How I Got Skinny the beginning of a poem, and the end of an eating disorder
I am an unfortunate entity the product of a faulty system I have my flaws, I have plenty I use all in my power to resist them
If I told you that you're beautiful Right here, right now, forever Would you believe me?
The strength of a woman is her kindhearted ways that she forever displays. It’s her loving confident smile that takes you to the highest place with the glimpse of determination shone upon her face.
It come in an array of body sizes with a structure capturing other ethnicity eyes. Although in a negative disguise, a black woman’s butt was seen as a disgrace. Now look all over the place.
Oh this skin of mine So silky and smooth Deep reddish brown Stares it ensues These eyes of mine So deep and so brown Don't stare too long Or in love you will drown This hair this hair of mine