Mind, Body, Heart: Confessions of a teenage poet

1.

Me: a short summary of my life that doesn't encompass a third of it.

Look.. I know that I've done wrong,
What can I say?
That I'm perfect?
Hell no.
I'm nowhere near perfect,
And don't you dare say that I am.
Don't you dare say that
I'm me and I can't be any better.
I know that you're lying.
I've known it since the day I woke up
And saw myself in the mirror.
That cold unforgiving mirror.
I see my chubby face,
My fat stomach,
My too large thighs.
I see the countless stretch marks
That grace my body
Like I was a painting
With just too many strokes.
Like Van Gogh's.
Streaky.
Messy.
Some could even say insane.
Some could even say that it was a painting
Fit for disaster
Many interpretations of one piece
Of work.
Most interpret me as
The Wacko;
The Weird;
The Woah;
And not the good type of woah.
The type of woah that makes you want to stand back and watch the
Freak show.
But am not a damn freak show.
I am a human being
That's never herself.
I know you think of me in a way no one else does
And there's a reason for that.
You see no one ever really stays,
Stays with me I mean.
They realize how crazy I am,
How high maintenance I am,
How average I am.
I'll never be the best,
But never the worst.
Never the prettiest,
But never the ugliest.
I will never be the most sane,
But never the one who's lost touch with reality.
I mean,
Yes..
I have gone partially insane
But it's not my fault..
It's from all the people who have treated me like shit
I'm a collage of
Makeup that masks my insecurities,
Lies that tell me how to feel,
And heartache that just keeps coming.
I realize that I'm not the best,
But no one ever gives me
The chance to be
Me.
It's always
Do this
Do that
Be this
Be that
Dress prettier
Act nicer
Be different.
But not in my own way
Be different in the way people notice you
Because of how nice you are
Because of how pretty you are
Because of how extraordinary you are.
But you see, I've never been
Extraordinary
At 5 foot 3 inches
60 pounds overweight
No one wants to acknowledge
Me.
The girl with depression.
The girl with anxiety.
The girl who never does anything right.
The girl who cries herself to sleep
The girl who's life is filled with broken promises and empty words.
But you,
You said you loved me.
You said that I'll never feel unwanted
With you.
But how the hell would I know.
I wouldn't.
So don't you kneel there
With a ring box in your hand
Asking if I would be yours
When our lives haven't even begun.
Once you learn at least half of my troubles,
Maybe I'll consider that ring.