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I had a boy come up to me once When he heard I’d be singing at our high school’s senior award ceremony. To ask “what will you be singing? a whale song?” He turned to his friends and began to laugh
Straight people can be so nosy sometimes There’s always something y’all want to know about what I do in the bedroom. But at the same time none of you really do And honestly I don’t understand.
Here we stand Much to their surprise Or dismay Or confusion Fat men are a whisper A forest cut down for comedic relief Only seen if we are funny Only loved if we have money
Love me now while I can love you in return Love me now when, at will I can turn on and off the lantern Love me now while, still
I am not a model I will never be a dancer Or a Go Go boy Or the calendar image for the month of July But I am everything it took to stay alive And I’m sorry if that’s not good enough for you.
My body is mountains disguised in flesh Fields of grain waving in the breeze My body is plateaus and canyons  And every hill you’ve ever climbed
1 to 2 weeks, that’s how long it takes to regenerate new taste buds. To replace the taste buds that once danced with your own. That tasted the sweat on your skin and the chocolate you bought for me.
A body with hands like maps Allow me to trace your highway veins Intertwine your fingers in mine And learn my roads, my cliffs My body yearns to know your story
Your touch is tattooed  On every curve Your smile Foggy amongst the autumn sun I dream of your eyes Sad and wandering
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
I let you into my life One breath at a time My parts, too, are promises Curve a curl behind my ear as I  Tell you a secret
All my life I’ve been around Niggas who think they can take something  From me My skin Rips at the sight of them Their teeth
Did you know her eyes are green, no? well i bet you knew what boob was biger than the other. Did you see the scars on her thights?
Did you know her eyes are green, no? well i bet you knew what boob was biger than the other. Did you see the scars on her thights?
You cannot define me. I am but a petalless flower, a bud, sewn shut with transparent thread. I exist in a reality unlike the one you know, a reality I created within my soul,
Home   Wherever I go, I take with me a home that I don’t need to tow; It’s mind and heart and bone. Every minute I discover
I don't want to have meaningless sex just to get it out of the way. I want a love that's real, Powerful, Exciting. I don't want something that's based solely on physical attraction and longing.
all i am to you is a treasure untouched will you ever see me for more than my body?
The mind has a funny way of playing tricks on you, Even though you have it planned in your head what you want, your mind still takes over and tells you what to do.
on my chest below my neck ornaments on my body i don’t remember asking for they decorate me but i seldom feel like art
This body.   One heart.   Two valves.   300 million veins.  37 trillion cells.   Regenerating every second to keep you alive.  
i'm sorry I feel like dying somedays i'm sorry that most days i want to be alone so i shut down and i don't answer you and i don't want to watch shows with you and i don't want to talk 
My body is a cage. Its walls made of flesh and tissue As long as I am trapped in this body I will never be free.   My lips are sealed together
Yes, in fact I do know that I’m fat No, I don’t plan to change for you Yes, I plan to lose the weight someday, but if you think I owe it to you to do so, then you will never get the satisfaction of holding my hand.
You are perfect.  That’s it.  I said it.  Perfect.
“Hey man, saying this for your own good.”  
My body is a skyscraper Yeah you heard me right It’s 6 miles high and made of glass To stand out in the night   My body is a skyscraper  With legs of stainless steel Holding up my giant frame
By the time you read this I’ll be alive, but I suppose that won’t always be the case. Death is as inescapable as tuna casserole at least once a season or as unavoidable as smiling when you see that person, at least just a little.
I just stood there Almost paralyzed by your beauty  Yet, Letting your hurtful words cut me so deep I started to bleed from my wrist My blood was as red as her matte lipstick 
I am fat. Some may say “same” or “retweet” I am looking at you Ms. size four or five. SHUT UP. Some of you are looking around the room
foaming in the throat I dragged myself over sand dunes knotted asphalt pulling the me that is not mine          
The bottom of the ocean. Not viewable to anyone. 95 percent unknown. Yet, many people do not fear it. I am not one of those people. Yet, my senior project was to swim one mile.
pastel colors brush the sky as water color memories fall on my cheeks the sun sets on all things even dreams i must wake and realize i am sick i am dying i have to leave   breathe.
my body is not your body. this is not your bulging stomach, pocked skin, stubborn jaw. stomach that. i'm my own woman.  my body has rights. it's its own free thing. 
You are 58 inches of unbridled fury. The chocolate stars that you use to look up at the people around you are riddled with dry tears.  
You hide behind hills, Curves of rock snaking up, Strangling The lakes and rivers-- Your tears. And the blades of grass, a fine-woven net To catch, To cut, To keep
when is it my body? when you’re reaping the color of my skin reducing my culture into a category that only accepts squinty eyes and figures so thin
My body is a temple. You’re not invited in. You’ve left me empty and broken, all from within.   My body is my home. My safe zone.
“Awesome, it doesn’t feel like I just washed these jeans!” I heard this…and choked…and second guessed…and wanted to say something…and needed to leave…and  
Our faces bounced off of every wall, as well as the bodies of many with faces of despise, Some of theirs would shrink and some of theirs would swell  
My home moved often, a trailer one day, the next a house and the last a home But I lived in my body A home that I hated and a home that I couldn't escape My ribs; a locked cage to prison a soul
My lips are not soft, freshOr new.They are dry and rough,Scarred from self-infliction.
I am curvy and nerdy  Self-esteem a little sturdy Hmm.. can 't even count how many times I've been told I have a body that people pay for 
Statue Pure and white Immortal in her fright Carved by a man Defiled by one too The horror of a woman Is multiplied when considering  His manipulation
His tongue tastes of wine I feel childhood memories on his spine. His eyes shimmer like the sea I know why he has that scar on his knee. His lips taste like cherries I watch him devour some Ben & Jerry's.
They will say to stop  Once they find them Those thin slips of red lining your wrists They will say to STOPSTOPSTOP Find another way find another outlet find something ANYTHING
What are the feelings that I hold for you? A strange new vulnerability in my outtake for life. Holding me to the weaskest point in my breath. Breaking the links to the chain than I grasp.
Internalize In turn all eyes turn inwardand find only darkness,what a clever disguise.
Your pink, rosey lips delicately fell onto the bones of my hips. Your beaming, bright smile can send my heartbeat and I traveling over a mile. Your dainty, lingering fingertips, could repair sinking ships.
  Sometimes I feel about my body the way meat must feel about sausage casings. Too many circles forced inside squares, too many curves held captive behind societal bars.  
Teeth gnashing, ripping, and tearing through your body - ripped apart from inside out. An internal violent assault - this is what Cancer's about. Carrying with it, anger and cruelty-
Hi, I'm skinny I am five feet seven inches and weigh one hundred and five pounds Yes, I have a flat stomach Yes, You can see my collar bones Yes, I have a thigh gap And no, that does not make me beautiful
Dear Body, I've tried everything to get you to change. I've, beat up, cut, stab, bruised, burned, dieted, waist trained, Even starved you But you persited
I hide my body, And decorated my soul, I don't put doormats or door signs, That says "welcome" anymore, I got rid of all the dodders, And sowed seeds of dreams in my chest,
i never asked for thisthe dirty looks in the hallwaythe self-loathing i constantly feelthe unnecessary attentionthe way that i look in the mirror and see someone elsethe voice that doesn't belong to me
Dear Father,    Where has she gone? When I came out to her, she wore a black-lace veil and mourned the death of her grandchildren   Little, little mirror
to my Self, you have always been, are, and will continue to be, perfect in your imperfections. You are human, and you are as beautiful as the cosmos.   to my Skin,
my mom's gf and her roommate would have parties almost every night and every weekend random guys and girls would come over to drink the night away and that's when I'd want to just sleep my life away
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
How hurt am I on a weekly basis? I am not certain, but I'm sure my skin could tell you Oh, perhaps my feet, my legs, wrists or my head could add in! They can tell everyone about the pains I go through Eh-hem.
Dear Body,
I've been patiently waiting for you to notice me like a girl standing in the corner at a party just waiting to be danced with. But you never notice me.And every time I try to give you a compliment you always seem to get mad at me.I'm sorry if I al
Empty Pages   Writer’s block is like thinking you’ve met a man you could give your all to at the stage of his life when his ego is inflated like the dollar
Let your house be a home for you, and if it's not then make some room for the God in you Open up your doors to the Spirit of love, alive in you, He is alive in you, let His wisdom enlighten you
Dear Body, I am trying to remember the last time I said, “I love you.” This morning, I walked around my room. Naked.
Theres a river in me. It's waves slide past each other slowly and smoothly. My blood is a big river, it flows through my veins, heart, bones and my brain too.
The constant eradication of a soul A soul broken into pieces of a whole Leads to a stone heart That can no longer feel pain
  Frantically sinking into the Sea of Death Trying to catch a single breath A breath of life That--- for a moment--- can take away the constant strife
I wait Wait for the final accolades Instead life hands me a hundred promenades Promenades of infinite choices Appearing in my head as infinite voices
Dear Beauty,   I wish I would have known I wish I would have known That you are just a shapeshifter that turns into the nightmare shown
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
We were born and raised in a society Where our worth is determined by our waistlines,   Where the size of our butts are more important Than the size of our brains.  
Dear Beautiful, You. Yes, you. You are loved. You are perfect. You are beautiful. In our society People are so quick to judge Based on what's seen on the outside
In the depths of the reflected light You can catch a glimpse, a girls' shadow It's a sight you can't overlook With her eyes so hollow and haunted Concealing within a ghastly narrative  
I spilled into that frosting grass. Spindly, numb blades lusted for the blank sky above and bent and bedded me into their meadow-berth. The pinching smell of nothing burnt my nose
Plain moths. We follow the light Never daring to touch it Filters on our eyes, Seeing things That are far from the truth Oblivious to realize the facts.   She came swiftly then.
I am a piece of art. The color of my skin My eyes color and size My hair color and style My size in weight and visual My height, short nor tall I am the art of reality.
The Beauty Of A Women : The beauty of a woman Is not in the clothes she wears, The figure that she carries, Or the way she combs her hair.
I am a host for a parasite, A parasite whose disease has sucked on my mind, Leaching my hope, Leaching my sanity, Raping me of all personality.
My friend, foreshadowing, was telling my future. Picture a fortune teller. Speaking with her mind, hands and such amazing creation of sound, her words were confident. She was confident. But, please, please do not.
Laughter is all I hear. I hear the cruel whispers as I walk down the hall. I can hear you.   I can hear their silent voices, smirking at the girl who walks -
Verse 1: Feet on the ground, More so when nobody to be found Though sometimes I like to stick around Need to be alone, figure out what’s really right and what’s wrong Got my head in the clouds,
Verse 1: Feet on the ground, More so when nobody to be found Though sometimes I like to stick around Need to be alone, figure out what’s really right and what’s wrong Got my head in the clouds,
  My hands are weaving through your hair. My hands say soft. My hands are pleasure. My hands are pain.
I've been everywhere, Although my body ain't been here or there My mind has traveled everywhere. I lived on the South Side for nine years And the North Side for eight, But that really ain't right. 
One Year Back: Ribs sickly sticking through skin, spine running down my back;  Sunken craters haunt my face holding in eyes that don't shine anymore. 
Faith & Confidence: Real Within Ourselves   Worry not, for tomorrow Will be brighter---- The sun shines in Your corner Dare not with uncertainty Dare with a dream  
At the start, She was kind, beautiful, free. She was individual, unique Better than she’d ever been. Then, near the middle, And more towards the end Her self image began to bend And bend
Hell Yeah! I have thunder thighs, And you better believe I have lightning to go with them: Purple and white zig-zags flashing across my upper legs, stomach, and butt. My torso is formed by soft rolling hills-
Stretch mark poem : Women,You have nothing to be ashamed/embarrassed off..!
I’ve traced the veins up your arms The angles of your jaw The slope of your cheekbones The basin of your forehead The curves of your sides The length of your limbs Over and over Again and again
I am lost in the curve of your cupid's bow, Oh, but how it seems more like Cupid's chokehold, So far away, across the world; you are, Tantalizing brown eyes searching for a purpose, searching for bravery,
the boiling water descends flowing over the skin your handsran down.bullets spew from the shower headlike a machine gunmowing down my enemythat hides in my curvesbut with its horrible accuracy
My body is my bookMy creases the linesMy scars are the action scenesMy tears are the tearjerkersMy ears ears collect the sounds of lifethat run through the wires to my computer, my brain
You’ve always told me that you get your best ideas  driving alone when your weary body slips into  your hypnotic state when your eyes  become the headlights that light the way
These mountains carve deep and break the surface of my skin Press down on my fragile veins They burst with ease and suddenly I am free.   A spectrum streams from my body My skin begins to breathe
I am who I am And I want to have sex You’re telling me no But my body says yes Society built an image Tall, thin and pretty
your bones protruding through skin nails through blocks of wood this is not love.   and skipping dessert for a boy who never looks in your direction this will not make him notice you.  
I have a skull And my skull hangs low When I'm walking around and I sulk Inside said head I have something that's one of a kind It's my one and only mind Call me narcissistic, call me pretentious
I am a prisoner to the world I live in. I am told how to be. How to be perfect, how to be loved, how to be worth something. I am dictated by numbers. My weight, my GPA, my class rank, my waist measurement.
Skin on skin As the morning comes We were out too late We don’t mind Being tired the next day   Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone We are no longer alone   Flesh on flesh
I can't remember the last time I told myself who I am Everyone always says, You're so perfect in every way.  Good grades, Good body, Good personality You're just so good.
                A human being, sentient and breathing, cannot truly live without seeing.                 If eyes are windows to the soul, then all you know comes through your pupils.                 But count the eyes first.
Dear Allison,   Our mother gave us this name.And I want a clean slate.I'm not sure if I'm supposed to apologize.I look in this mirror, staring at you, wiping our eyes.  
The key to thee is that of three Know this mastory of three and truely shed thy body and be free Live that of three
Oxford dictionary defines "perfect" as Having all the required or desirable elements,qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be:
Narcissism. Bullshit. Love is beautiful. Love is strong and love is proud. Why in the Now are we told we are nothing without love  but  not  allowed  to  love  ourself?
Not everyone understands What it's like to be… How to put it… Different? And I'm not talking about That circle peg square hole bullshit I'm talking about The open chest cavity feeling
Red Tissue Pulls the bones that all men know and own Organs push the body  through the daily processes too Twitches and contractions they all work in factions.
She called at four am. Sobbing into the phone, we were both barely past ten. He had touched her with his sweaty hands, and looked at her with his lustful eyes. He had ripped her out of bed,
she came she saw she took what she needed with soft hands by her touch   she then approached him he came again she called him in she wanted
I am a jester and a fool Trickster here to scare your ghouls Living only for laughter’s mercy   I am a soft mouthed labrador
I crush me between my fingers and palm, squeezing tightly - relentlessly Into my balled up fist I threw the things that make me me.  The bad things -
As the tears fall
Mother and Father gave me a kitten. When they knew they wanted one, It took a whole nine months for them to get it! My new kitten was Adorable, tiny, and fragile.  
Flying never takes me far. there is enough for me here. my intention betrays my fluttering touch. Delicate and fleeting current. Haunting and hypnotic dance of air. As I travel among the soft
The lens of her minds eye is tinted  
Your body is not a temple; it's a tree.  Equipt with branches for limbs and leaves for all the little in betweens. Trees are meant to grow strong for years and years with their roots consistently reaching further.
A silver-backed glass staring back
This heart , this mind and this body all are held to the standard from the outside.  I am nothing my outside shows...the thickness of my thighs and stomach give no indication to the person I truly am. 
Body Image
Within the proprietor
I think of my marks
My path is lost, I must pause, For life has gotten without cause, Identity faded, I'm not who I was, Fazed into tomorrow, Sorrow in all, Must borrow happiness,
Loving your body at times where you need it most. Cherish those moments.
I didn’t take that razor To end my life Or to show the world How unhappy I was
"Be honest," they said, so honest I was. Honest as nobody ever was. Blunt as the barrier between water and oil, I told them the truth without recoil.   The truth of our cohorts, sad but true
In a world where people are periodically posting pics and sending selfies to fellow citizens, there is a surprising amount of self hate surrounding the subject.
They asked her to strip bare, to expose herself to ongoing art connoisseurs,
When you look at the world What do you see? Do you view your food and friends in Mayfair and Valencia? Your wasting your time deciding which accent makes your skin look tan
Who am I without any of those filters or fake edits? Well I am me I am someone who is naturally beautiful yet goofy all by my personal line of credit I am someone with flaws just like anyone else
Maybe I'm crazy and insane. Maybe we are not the same. But now I know what I see. Every time you look at me. It's innocence, That light. A light that shines through any dark night. And tho you are far away. These words I still have to say.
When I take a picture   I smile and stare at my relfection.   My mind wonders if they will like it   if they will see me the way  I see me.  
When I round the corner, and touch my nose to the real, cold glass of my bathroom mirror, I am faced with everything I've ever tried to cover up. My skin that's pale and reminds me of my father,
That shy girl
Who do I become 
A face that's kind, With just few zits. A smile that is funnier than an orange rind, With a really slow wit.   A walk without balance or grace. A mind filled with irrational fears.
so midless and numb; i remember the feeling of blades on my skin
When I was five I wanted to be a princess.
I am a woman who can do it all Even though I am so small I have so much potential  because I know most of the essentials
In and from this world what do we really want?
Blood as red as a rose They said death was something that you just chose Truthfully it chose you
Perfect this.
It's the glisten at the light,  That small glimmer of a perfectionist. The dark waves and the pale surface, a red sea with murky waters. It falls to the arches,  it caresses to the skin.
Beauty is as thin and temporary as the Skin cells we shed each day, so Pull out the X-ray and take a deeper Look, for true beauty lies within  In the muscle that gives me strength And connects the
Beauty is as thin and temporary as the Skin cells we shed each day, so Pull out the X-ray and take a deeper Look, for true beauty lies within  In the muscle that gives me strength And connects the
I am rejoicing todayBecause even though There is famine in South SudanAnd my country is betraying its constitution Today is the day I celebrate victory on the home stretch 
You know perfection Is a man-made word Because it is shallow. Though its implications are potent, No poetry projects from its reflection –
I used to look in a mirror and see nothing more than a pale, meaningless skeleton Encompassed by pasty, white flesh with scars that seemed to never fade away no matter how much they healed,
An hour every morning spent on my  make up and my hair I switch my outfit three times befor I walk out the door I dont do this for the attention of some flawed attraction, but I do this for me.
We as people are canvuses. We get to write our stories and paint our pictures. We take care of ourselvs. If not, we are broken. Delicate, soft, easily destroyed. Every story has an ending, deside yours.
Flawless is a word, an adjective that describes something or someone that  Does not have defects or faults, none that diminish the value of something
If I Lose Myself... Gabriel Reyes   I am no ideal person But I am exemplary. If I lose Myself... I have lost everything.  
"There's no flaws in dreams,"Said my mind to me,"Be who you are, And who you want to be."I may have a personality,That's flawed in many ways,But a mind that's reigns...
"There's no flaws in dreams,"Said my mind to me,"Be who you are, And who you want to be."I may have a personality,That's flawed in many ways,But a mind that's reigns...
Red lips licked  As loose locks  Cup curve of hips    Red wine sips  Glass rim sings,  Touch of fingertips 
I am a body of water Stretching far and wide Beyond and away From my shores, to some unknown Place And my body is the water It rolls and ripples And my mind is the water Calm and glassy
Oh!  There it is,The blood of my Mothers’SinsBlossoming onMy white sheetsLike a bouquet of English roses.A shame -Laundry day hadBeen yesterday.  My thighs have been painted
For Losing shall I ever be Great      Losing long nights of pain  Before they found her Quenching the thirst of my innocece Saturating my pillow from sorrow       For Losing I am Confidence this 1525 woodcut print by Albrecht Dürer
Who's wild and crazy A girl who's set free someone who listens but can talk to those in need
My insides were once a forest. Beautiful Nuturing. It has since been torn down. It is a grave now.
Perfect, That I am, So perfect in fact, My name is Sam.   From my head to my toes, From the wrinkle in my nose, The perfect five foot height, The perfect far-sighted sight.  
Body do you see this? Or even hear this? How they talk about you as if you are a piece of meat As if you are something that they can use As if you are something that can be replace  
My shoulders are drooping underneath the heavy weight of expectation. I'm being dragged by the leash of society.
Though I've yet to pull myself together There's a part of me that seems to have tethered My body image and self neglect Are all pure relfections of lack of self-respect.   I starve myself day by day
Why do I always feel like nobody cares And when I need someone, no one's there? Being alone is a normal feeling The real me I've been concealing.   The thought of isolation was always appealing
Nobody Knows Me Like Me
Perfection is a plauge spreading through their bones. Perfection is an irrational conclusion to simplistic ideas. Perfection is a sense of security that everyone craves. Perfection is based on the fear of being different.
What is the true meaning of flawless A hope, an ideal, a dream that one may fit society's standards? Is it influence? A man, woman, or child that tries to make the world better,
I saw it but I held my breath 
I think I am beautiful, In a different sort of way. I always keep them laughing, And they just want me to stay. My face is something of my own, One alike you'll never see.
My thighs stretch out across the seat when I sit.
I am strong, No matter how many times you tell me I'm weak. 
I am the child born on a late Winter evening. I am the woman you never desire leaving. I am the lady scanning frantically in libraries. I am the hopeless romantic ending February.
Many people like to judge others, Because they're afraid to themselves be judged. They are terrible bothers, All because they're afraid their own bodies are too pudged.   I disagree with that flawed logic,
“You chubby good for nothing hog.”“Maybe if you go on a diet you won't break everything.” Starving, and crying. Starving and crying. Starving and crying,
Fragile as the flight of a butterfly,Is this love that lives in constant fear.Ready to fight for its desires
It's cold out, and the weather's frigid.  I frown throughout the dreary day.
I ...
FakeA descriptor built from uncertainty and accusations  Tailored to those who do not fit regulations or expectations ­- freaks  Used by those who do not understand anyone and those who wish to understand themselves.    
The trail of  your fingertips have been embedded onto my skin.The scent o
The Power of Perfection
Who am I? A question subject to everyday society. Nothing more. One that thinks for the better And acts for a cause. Concealment… Unnecessary. Life kept justified if otherwise
My hair has always reminded me of the ocean
When will my body ever be good enough?
"Skinny isn't beautiful; curvy is."
I have learned to appreciate water for it’s omnipotence   
Fat A word that tears at my throat and breaks the dams in my eyes Stretch marks Battle wounds from a battle that I lost with myself Fat 
There are hands we hold in times of need Hands we clap in times of glee
Your body is a fortress, your body is your prize Your body is a temple where you go to hide Your body is perfect. Won't show you how to work it, that's up to you to decide Decreate it, paint it
my heart explodes in joy at the sight
The best part of art lies in the subconscious, Not within the scrutiny of a scholar’s essay, Not within the thoughts that the artist speaks to herself, But within the very muscles of the hand,
My eyes do not “light up like the sunlight upon water,” My complexion is too blue and white and every girl is hotter, Society does not reward small chests like mine with glamour,
Shy. Insecure, Embarrased Unconfident She glares at the two piece shimmery white bikini, hanging up on the wall It called out to her It was beautiful.
  Look at those girls in the magazine!
  Ew, you stink! Go away Take a bath, wear deodorant.
At times, hands cannot express more than the heart. However, at others, the hands become merely tools of passion used on a lover. The hands are oft accompanied by other tools
Sweat seems to seep out With bitterness and  burning As it slithers down and  air So sweet burns just the same as if  tiny jewles and crystals line my throat dry
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Are the standards of today a consensus? Does everyone really agree as to What's out and what's in Glamour versus sin Too fat versus too thin?  
"Why me?" She sits in the corner of her room Crying and Slowly dying "Is it even worth it?" Should she end it?
The body pops every Saturday. It starts around 10 or 11 pm, and it doesn't stop until the party gets shut down. She twerks. She goes. She gets it. She bad. I don't know who these musicians be talking about, but me?
Can you believe it? Neither can I. Those girls that are called ugly,dirty, stupid Who cry Replace their breasts, inject their lips Nip, tuck their thighs? Can you believe it? Neither can I.
This is my attempt at a spoken word piece. Not finished. But, its how I want to start and end it. Tell me what you think...
beauty we see it everywhere we see it in the eyes of a stranger passing us by on the sidewalk 
  It is hard to define                         Perfection Still, society struggles to be the reflection             Perfection
As I lie here naked, I catch glimpses of them. Some scattered disorderly on me left thigh, Others straight and regimented on my right.  
For me, my drummer beats,       Da boom, da boom. He rarely misses a beat and keeps up with my tempo. When I'm running--       Dadub-dadub-dadub! Or when I meditate,       Daa boom. Daa boom.
My mind is wise but my heart is naive and my soul is worn and weary yet  my body is of a young girl   I don't even know how I'm so young but I'm so old.
The left arm is the pain and hurt that’s been suffered all this time, while the right is a shrine to the family that’s there no matter what.
Run that extra mile, Pick up those and move them to that pile. Keep up that pace, The goal of this is to finish your race! You look tired, you seem sore But you have to keep giving it more.
HEAD A SHOULDERS A R        CHEST     R M       WAIST       M LL
Have the eye of the tiger, the heart of a lion, and
Even when I die My voice shall cry Immortalized through The mind`s eye   Even if I rot You will not forgot You will hear my poetry More than the ticking of the clock  
In Front of the camera she is the world’s beauty, But in front of the mirror she is her own enemy. Her make-up covers her flaws, Moreover, her appearance is a part of her moral laws.
This is for you.
I want to go deep in your thoughts and explore every inch of your mind
People of different ages, genders, and identities stare into their reflections;
Let me be me Stop criticizing every move I make Stop judging me, without fair play You make me out to be the villain Though I am the victim For years you acted out
Lovely ladies, In their tiny skirts, plucking out their eyebrows 'til their red skin stings and burns, Lovely ladies, Waiting for the praise, Standing by their lockers waiting on the boys to wave,
Drink the entirety of the lake Take the sand into your hands We exist now
Inside, they consume me the words of society filled with rejection   My heart aches and throbs  as I'm wrapped in the image of pure pefection   Yet I can not grasp
she walks the halls but doesnt speak the pain is voiced by the tear on her cheek her beauty and innocence corrupted by others who point and laugh at the skin she covers   a boy who sits alone and cries
I look in the mirror I wish I could see what you see Skin so pale I could illuminate the dark Curves in all the wrong places Acne that covers my face Oh the joy of being a teen Hair that frizzes
Size 4..5.. wait wheres the rest?
The bones they scream in volumes that grow I hear them begging to show They want to press pass the barriers They want me to learn “no” It scares me as much as it thrills me To take it all in and see
I think in differnet places.   Calculus is in the crinkled skin of my forehead and tight at the apex of my scalp   Marching is in my bones and meaty joints   Music is in my eyes and mouth
What do you see when you look at me Is it my body? My curves, my fine physique Now look me in my eyes and tell me what do you see. A girl with low self-esteem and insecurities
My eyes. The teardrops of the skies. The blackness of the night. Darkness made bright. My lips. The fruit of the lies. The taste of the men. Hunger in eyes. My hips.
Must it be this way The consistent blame of 'media' Why am I not allowed to love me? The constant reminder that I'm still in remedial Perhaps this is meant to be - a shell of what I used to love
the mirror reflects my image i see all flaws no light am i really like this is this what others see?
I wear glasses to see better.. But is worth it, To take a look at one girl  and say "she fat.." "She so fat, the make the floor shake..." "Make table break," But that's what we say in our eyes...
Throbbing and pounding,I give you your deepest thoughts.You're not using me correctly,Everything about me gradually rots.
A slow, seeping pain enters my body,But I know too well that it was already there;Dormant, sleeping, then like a whisper,It shatters the silence, but its secret is only shared with me.
  In the midst of the gale
 I found myself, helpless and pale
 A girl called Aanu, censorious of the image 
 Staring back at her in the mirror, the horror of her own visage

Please do not judge me on my face  My religion or my race  Don't judge me on my hair  Where I live or what I wear  Don't judge me on how I look Or even the way I cook 
This healer, he produces words of wisdom His power is to reach into my soul and squeeze. He raises me up into his kingdom and brings me down upon my knees.
I see my sad reflectionEyes staring at me blanklyMystified by your attractionI've been thinking about us lately
A pasted on smile, stretched over bleached white teeth Perfect skin, clean and bright Perfect body, toned, tanned, and fit Perfect hair, straighted and dyed THESE are robot girls, ripped from glossy pages.  
Who am I to think I’m beautiful?Disproportionate at every angle, my figure is shaped like that of a pear’s.And any claims to beauty seem to be rare,because I can hardly stand the sight of my body bare.  
The flowing dancer spinning with the tongue the pen the pencil sentences tumbling at times only to stand once more graceful as ever   Moving quickly then slowly
  When I was little I loved to rhyme and carry paper and pencil in hand Sadly, momma discouraged me saying crunch numbers, math is in demand   However literature and poetry have always been my muse
when you look at me what you see darskin ,brown eyes and sandy brown hair\ do see a big smile, with dark lips someone thats not that tall but stand so tall and proud all the time
For 18 years I've been lost about being lost and tossed around by meaninglessness Worried about pieces of paper in the future For the last 2 years, I've been eating the last doughnut And sneaking a glass of wine
Skin deep I'm blond, so I must be dumb, but my mind whirls faster than most. Skin deep I wear skirts, so I'm a crazy conservative, but I'm quite liberal. Skin deep I'm not skinny,
Is a girl worth so much more rather than what she holds between her thighs? In her mind, she asks what she’s really worth When no one takes her for who she is. Scared that no one will like her for who she is.
I write to know that I am alive, I write to know that I feel... the pain, the loss, the sadness, the love...within the pages as they are inked. Imprinting what is real. The memories. I withold may fade over time.
Because I dont fit into society's criteria of beautiful love me through my curves Because people look at my stomach first love me through my curves I long for that moment when those who have more to feel,
These words I write Are Born from me, I’ve given them more Than just a sound, I’ve given them Life, An opportunity to Impress. It’s passion turns to heart and logic into mind.
Poetry is a tool, and I have found that the more I practice, the more precise I am. It is an x-ray machine, allowing me to discover where I wish to examine myself. It is rib shears, slicing my ribs open to expose my heart.
Art, mind, body, soul. All are connected. Poetry, theatre, dance, sing. All are therapy. With therapy we join. With therapy we live.
I am 20 years young With the power of a king I am you And you are me But we're all the same if you read between. Oh no Wait just a minute Did he say that  I know he didn't 
Mirrror, mirror on the wall why must we look at ourselves through you and bawl? Why can't we always see our true beauty? What wicked games you play, tricking our minds this way! If I break you will I really have 7 years of bad luck?
  We wish upon a shooting star, just to change who we are   Gaze among the stars so bright, just so we can see the light  
Show me your story But dont use words, dont speak. Let the novel be written And make it expressive! Your frustrations, tribulations. We want to see, not just me, everybody.
I have a dream And as I say these words, I feel the word dream fade away The nightmare takes its place and the only thing we dream of is a new dawn And I’m not talking about it breaking in two parts—Twilight
I don’t know much about the world, economy, politics and what not I didn’t know about slavery or racism at all for that matter I didn’t know about Martin Luther King’s dream and how the conquest for Civil Rights
Her left hand rests palm-down against the mirror,this hand is relaxed in comparison to her fluttering mind.Who am I? She wonders.
I am a teenager I am young but feel so old around my peers I am alone with my elders I am whole with the gossip I abhor- my heart just seems to break. Thepressures irr irreg
Different lines and forms, but all the same the wonder as the form moves, the beauty overflowing to touch would be a wondrous thing, but to watch is good enough more, more each bulge glistening
A landscape for madman in my mind and the genius in yours. Kept short and trim and orderly, most days.
From a fly on the wall to a man standing tall from a shell on the beach to a wave of coherent speech I am stepping out of the shadow of childhood and into a responsible brain. surrounded by gray matter
(poems go here)
Body language ...... See the perception of man derives from your expectation I find my ego in bound in fighting for gratification. Scranballing and shuffling thru thoughts for line to start the convocation with
What is a mistake if we along with everyone around us cannot learn and benefit from it? Too many of my family members, friends, teachers, this generation and ones before me have been effected by numerous heath issues such as:
Mirrors and mind contort what I see, Skinny and thin is what I must be; 86 pounds just isn’t enough, Starving myself is going to be tough.
My canvas needs paint My prison needs bars The light sheds through the darkness The darkness that has kept me in the shadows for 9 withering months Paint the colors of the rainbow on her canvas
Its swirls were intriguing Salvation meant his heart was beating His taste buds protruded the gum from his mouth And lifted themselves to curve: A Perfect Sugar Point
My fingers move like rusty chains I hear the creaking of my bones as I try to move them My fingers are numb My toes and knees are as heavy as rocks They shake as much as the trees I can no longer feel my knees
Brown skin like the deepest of mahogany,have the deepest of souls but it's a shame that they don't know ...just how much there worth. They've succumbed and let the world get the best of them then let the ghetto have the rest of them.
Another glance into the mirror Another day, another year A coarse example of the person Who is hiding under there
If I caught a glimpse of beauty there, it was in the plastic waistlines of perfect posing bodies, headless, yet still all I aspired-- still more desirable than I could ever wish to be.
The little girl you see over there, Yes, the one with the vibrant, shiny, red hair. She's not much different from you and I Everyday she goes home and cry. A year ago, just like this day,
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’m ugly Don’t look at me. No one wants me, I’m just A fat Bitch. I only wanted To be pretty. I bet she doesn’t need To suck in her stomach Like I do. She’s so Skinny,
You lie on top of me, Chest to chest, heart to heart. We don’t make love, we don’t fuck, We just lie there. Your body language so intriguing, so fascinating,
My hands are for writing, For painting, For greeting, For holding, For waving, For creating and destroying. With a fist they can hurt, With a poke or a tickle they can tease,
my reflection is looking at me she’s examining every part her body I watch as tears fill her eyes she’s an abomination
I catch myself Glancing in the mirror Looking at the image before me Unsatisfied With how crooked my teeth are With the way my stomach hangs over my pants With the acne on my face Unsatisfied
I don't know when life gets better I don't know when you'll be happy. I do know that it is gonna happen. Mark my words, mark my words I don't know if there is a god I don't care either way.
The sky is clear, but in this cage it is hard to notice. This cage that constricts me from seeing beyond the bars is unbearable, and I am unable to set myself free.
In my childhood I climbed holly trees and magnolia. Innocence was a summer day Locked outside with your bicycle; Locked outside with the water hose; Locked inside your room.
"My body is my temple" If we're going to use that metaphor It is a temple in ruins A temple weathered by wind and rain It is a temple with no soul A temple with no hope
I was surprised. I hadn't realized how far I'd come. How selfish I'd become in the process. Only thinking about myself. I was ugly. I was fat. There was a facade put up between me and them. That's the only way they would have been my friend.
My mother’s embrace is my home and in her arms I am never alone. People attack me with words, words that pierce my soul like daggers. I am not fierce nor am I bold so I cannot help the tears that pour like rain as I am in pain.
Don’t stare at my hips and thighs, my lips, my neck, with accusations in your eyes Don’t think your looks will make me cry and die inside and want to hide and fly on by mall-aisle five I don’t need your “pretty”
When the body dies, where do the thoughts go? Dreams stay just dreams? Do lost ambitions remain what could have been? Are the emotions once so drastic simply just pretend?
What is a body but from dust is flesh? 'Tis purposeful to carry every soul, O'er life we sail, traverse with burdens set, [This skeleton!] This ship! The cracks are felt from deck to hull.
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