Dear World,
I am so so tired
Of being told to be a "proper" girl
Pink is not my color
Is it a sin my tastes are unlike others?
Am I freak for bearing scars?
An outcast am I for refusing to be locked behind sexist iron bars
Cold-hearted because I have only a few dear friends
And because I say I've had enough again and again.
I am over the stereotypes
And all the sleepless nights
Spent mulling over what I did
To have the world tell me that I do not fit in.
This "proper" girl cannot exist
For if she did she'd only have a death wish
-A.S
YOU ARE READING
Another Tragic Story
PoetryA collection of the thoughts and feelings I'm too afraid to share. These words are things I see, hear, taste, and feel. These are the words of my life on a page, this is the tragedy I see.
