and i will continue to hate myself
until the day that someone finally
see's some sort of beauty in me.
i am dependent on others.
so when there is no one in this world
who thinks of me as good enough,
i have no reason to believe
that i am.
YOU ARE READING
quarter to dawn {poetry}
Poetrya collection of poems. you ask me why i like art and i tell you that the water colours bleed prettier than my wrists
