'It hurts'
Is what I would've said,
Maybe mommy was right...
That I wasn't right in the 'head'.
Maybe, I'm better off dead.
People tell me, it's not worth it.
That girls with no worth wouldn't have anyone to mourn with.
I'm ashamed of whats on the surface,
The mirror always makes me nervous.
The scales weigh in and out,
Balancing my inner doubt.
It decides whether or not,
I go out.
I did this to myself.
For the twelfth night, I've cried.
For the twelfth day, I haven't ate.
Mommy calls me insane,
That she's so 'ashamed'.
I know I'm lame,
But I guess its time to celebrate.
This way, I have an excuse to eat some cake.
YOU ARE READING
Time before Death
PoetryTime. Something that can be lost, but never returned. Poems of people who've lost it all, who yearn for the time lost.
