she was beautiful
very beautiful
but nothing could make her believe
she hated herself
looked in the mirror everyday
and called herself vile
and the world kept giving get reasons
not to smile
so she took to art
her blades were her pens
and her body became her canvas
she drew when she was sad
she drew when she was scared
she drew on her body
with ink bright red
she was an artist in her mind
but to others, she was the suicidal child
they aunties her and called we names
did nothing to show her they cared
and every night before going to bed
she hoped she never woke up
and was found dead
and after a while
she gave up on life
never knowing, she was the reason
for so many smiles
her scars told her story
her story of pain and suffering
hatred and grief
they all blamed society
and prayed in her name
to never let history
repeat itself again
- n i k a y
YOU ARE READING
Perfect Depression
PoetryThis is for the girls who have the tendency to stay up all night listening to music that reminds of their current situation. Who hide their fears, hurt, pain, and tears under their smiles and laughs all on a daily basis. The girls who wear their hea...
