In art, we drew self portraits
And I didn't draw exactly what I saw
In the scratched mirror.
Instead, I tried to make myself prettier,
Than I what I really am.
Then I scribbled it out with dark, heavy pencil lines,
Because I felt guilty that I was
Lying.
(found on some lined paper stuffed between two bricks at Westfield School)
YOU ARE READING
Faded
أدب المراهقينBecause in the end, we are all irrelevant. Especially me. {A series of notes and letters written by a girl called Chloe McMullen, found in places you would least expect}
