Her hair is blonde,
Her eyes are blue,
She's sweeter than a rose;
Her smile's wide,
Her trust is quick,
She can't tell friend from foe
Her clothes are black
Her temper's hot,
She's darker than the night;
Her music's loud,
Her stories kill,
She's putting up a fight
Her mother's sweet,
Her mother's kind,
She's gentle as a lamb;
Her father's harsh,
Her father's cruel,
He wields a heavy hand
She doesn't know
Just who she is,
The Oxymoron Girl;
Since she was twelve,
She's been confused,
Born of two different worlds.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Confusion
PoesiaDiana Miller is schizophrenic...or at least she thinks so. She has never been clinically diagnosed because her father believes that mental illness is demon possession, and she knows he would never take her to a psychiatrist. To cope with her inner c...
