Have you ever listened to the words of the disgusted cat caller?
Watching as their mouth opened and slime that eroded happiness like toxic waste dropped and oozed from their lips? Did you see it from her perspective?
Have you ever watched as one of her closest friends would glance up and down at what she was wearing? Did you watch as her friends simply smirked at the girl's hips hips?
Friends will be normal humans. They will poke fun at others. All while you sit in silence as she looks down with her words held inside. She is always at war.
Fighting the voices inside her head as she begs and pleads them to stop. Listening in as she could feel her mask crack a little bit more with every self conscious thing that is said.
Watching as their tongue rolls and their lips click together through each and every sentence.
No?
Well...have you ever seen them walk up to her with a devilish smirk? Only to tell her that a boy you once knew as a gentle and innocent soul said that, "She looked extra thick today."
Can you visualize the disappointment? Can you see the light die within her eyes as another person pokes fun at them for wanting another plate?
I know I could.
I could because I am that girl described above.
I am that girl that hides her scar tissued stomach from the rest of the world.
Lifting and pulling at the front of her pants in hopes of hiding the thick fat battle wounds across her lower stomach.
I am that girl whose light died from within.
I am that girl who hides her emotions behind a shattering and crumbling mask to make others happy.
Every remark sending another shard of that mask to the floor.
Revealing just what she feels beneath that smile.
I am a broken toy now.
A toy used to talk to and rant to.
A toy used to be silenced yet screamed at.
A toy used to simply make others happy while they two people pull at different limbs.
How much tension and pressure must one endure before they are suddenly... beheaded by their thoughts?
Because... the voice within my head grows very enticing at times. Saying that a single punch wouldn't hurt.
A single bleeding knuckle against a door won't be noticeable.
Even though... I know it's a lie.
Leaving me to wonder...
If the own voice I trusted inside my head lies.... then who else has?
YOU ARE READING
A Girl's Collection
PoetryThis book isn't a story. This is in fact a collection poems that I have written myself. These are all different pieces that I have created over the course of years and I wanted to share them with you all. Many poems are deep and sad. Making many vie...
