The Baby Cries in Black and White (journal + poetry)

Oops

Oops
It wasn't an accident
Fingers scraped and knees bent
I wanted to feel empty you see
Not in the way I can usually be
But lighter than air
To make people stare
And for once in life be looked at like a girl

There are stars in my eyes but why are mine less
Less than the perfect girl in the long flowing dress
With fingers like razors they'll cut at the touch
And people don't think that they are too much

A smiling face with hair in her eyes
The room is captivated, simply hypnotized
And I alike will watch on too
Just wondering why I can't be like you

She doesn't think she's pretty
And it makes me sick
Spilling my stomach, fast and quick
For if she's not pretty, a specimen of wonder
Then I'm a demon with my thighs of thunder

And looks aren't everything, they say, you see
But they don't know anything, or what it's like to be me
Or you, or them, or anyone else
Who knows how it feels to be sick of yourself

I am unwell, or so may be
Stuck in a loop of self-pointed animosity
But this is how I feel and they don't understand
How much I just want someone to hold my hand