Maybe during a time when I don't feel so blind will I finally see the beauty I withhold. Voices of loved ones constantly whisper in the back of my head, telling me about my glorious beauty and grace. Desperately, I wish to believe them, to think of myself in the most positive of ways, but above the whispers are the screams of those I despise. Yelling vulgar statements about my appearance and mental capabilities, they never fail to bring me down. I believe the screams for they are louder than the tiny whispers I hear, and every time I let my mind go blank, they only get louder to the point of ear piercing pain. My eyes spill with tears and my legs quiver with fear, I shut myself down and listen to the screams. Listen and believe.
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Broken Poetry
PoetryJust a bunch of my writings, usually dark but there are a few bright ones hidden in there somewhere... I hope you enjoy!
