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Literature Text
I used to think make up
Made people ugly.
Now I think I'm ugly without it.
I used to think people
Always loved me.
Now I think everyone hates me.
I used to think everybody
Was my best friend.
Now I think no one truly is.
I used to think
Boys were icky!
Now I wish I had one.
What happened to being
Happy?
Made people ugly.
Now I think I'm ugly without it.
I used to think people
Always loved me.
Now I think everyone hates me.
I used to think everybody
Was my best friend.
Now I think no one truly is.
I used to think
Boys were icky!
Now I wish I had one.
What happened to being
Happy?
Literature
I can't write poetry for dead girls.
there are too
many pills in this
world and too
much misery in
the human heart
but that didn't mean
that you could just
up and leave when
we both know it
could have gotten better
and i miss you like
a wolf misses her pack
or a goddamn dragon misses
her fire and i'm sorry
that i can't give you
a bouquet of jasmines
(they were your
favorite, after all,
because that was
the only princess
with a pet tiger)
because poppies are
too cliche and i'm
sorry i wasn't there
when all you needed
was a hug and for someone
to whisper "it's okay,
you're perfect enough
for me, don't listen
to that junkie bitch
who just happened to
give birth to you" and did
Literature
R.I.P.
Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
R.I
Literature
Spineless
My mother always told me I was born with four spines. They stay there, side by side, in my ramrod straight back, the reason for my very correct posture. So when my back began to arch, people noticed.
My parents were first. You look different, they would suppose as I would approach every morning for breakfast. Is something wrong? My mother would question. Are you ill? My father would ask.
I had a gift with the vague and I used it to my only advantage in this scenario. Because telling them the truth would be a lot more devastating. How would I tell them about the fact that my bones, my spine, the very part of me they admired most, was depreci
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I don't like the ending 
NOOO.
HELP.
Okay please comment and stuff! <3
NOOO.
HELP.
Okay please comment and stuff! <3
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Growing up has done this to me