Whenever I think of me,
It's not the me I see in the reflection
Her smile doesn't look like how mine feels
It tastes bitter and looks sickly
Looks plastic and tastes like pity
Those eyes are familiar though
Hollow inside and out
Surely you can see the real me
But my breasts are distraction
I understand, of course,
The container matters more than what's inside
No more!
This body isn't for your eyes
This body is my vessel and I'll take it by force
So don't fucking touch me
So don't give me your shallow opinion
So don't look at me longingly like any other woman
It's not like I'd fuck a loser like you
My smile tastes bitter with the regret of my mistakes
So I'm taking my body back by force
Someday that reflection I see will be me
(27 September 2015)
YOU ARE READING
An Aged, Bitter Collection of Poetry, Prose, & Papers
PoetryThere once was a sad girl, not that long ago, in a kingdom not so far away. Perhaps a glance into her somber scribbles might help you on your quest to scribble for yourself.
