pretty people cry too.
but do the tears stain?
do they know how pretty they are?
do they capture their tears
in old mason jars strewed about
to give as proof of their woes
to those of us that have no faith?
but not me...
i don't cry.
not because i'm pretty.
not because i'm happy.
but because i don't exist.
i'm simply here to observe,
as pretty people cry about
their excess of money and fame.
forgetting all about the way
they called the ugly people
"poor and lame."
YOU ARE READING
red-stained fingertips
Puisiprose and poetry and blood and romance. a fucking stupid combination. ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ TW: some poems mention suicide, self-harm, homophobia, and eating disorders started in september of 2021 #4 in poetry 8 . 8 . 23
