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UnprettyMirror mirror on the wall,
Can you say I'm the fairest of them all?
No, 'cause you can't lie,
But won't you even try?
So that just for now,
I could somehow,
That I don't consist merely out of air,
But that I matter.
I'm not greater, nor better.
I won't make the world stop turning,
I won't change a thing.
I am just air.
I can't expect anyone to care.
To care for me.
I'm just unpretty.
To Feel NothingThey say that feeling pain is better than feeling nothing.
I don't agree.
Feeling nothing gives me the idea that I'm safe, that no one can hurt me.
That I'm alone, but in the right way.
That I don't have to tell people what's going on in me, for there's nothing going on in me.
Feeling numb is like ignoring all the pain, like knowing what's wrong, but you don't have to emotially respond to it.
So no, I'd rather not feel pain. Pain makes me feel alone and miserable and excluded, for I'm the only one to feel the pain the way I feel it.
When I'm sad and pained, I tend to cut myself off. To isolate myself. Which is stupid and causes only more pain. And eventually jealousy, because I want to be happy and good again.
But we don't show our pain, do we now? We dont let people know we're hurt. Why not?
Because we don't want to bother others with it. We want others to be happy and good for us.
And, without getting all personal and dramatic, take me (or any ohter sad girl for al it matters).
Shut up and love me"And than the other team won, it was hilari---"
Shut it. Stop talking, I don't wanne hear what ever you have to say anymore!
Shut up! For years we have been talking to eachother about everything that happens in our lifes.
"Yes, ofcourse, we're best frie---"
Shut up! Shut up and love me. Shut up and kiss me. I don't wanna know what happend. I want you to love me. So shut up and love me.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
DifferentDifferent on the outside,
Different mask you see daily,
Different girl you call ‘Hailey’
To my surprise
Your ears are distracted,
So I tell lies, looking into your eyes,
“Yea I’m fine. Simply tired”
For that response my brain is wired.
Different mouth you hear speaking,
Different voice you hear screaming
Different eyes you see pleading,
Different person you’d befriended
I’m sorry this is how it’s ended.
Forget meYou forgot me
You plain and simple forgot me
Sure, you still know my name
and you would still recognize me,
but you forgot that I mattered
Who I was,
probably my face
I remember you
I remember you everey day
How much you matter to me
How you made me smile
How I'd love you, if you'd let me
Who you are,
I gave up my dreams,
but still have them
The 'you and I' dreams
Gone, but still haunting me
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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