I can be social. But probably not socially accepted.
i can be a boy. But probably a girl.
i can be hungry. But too fat to do anything about it.
i can be pretty. But that requires; effort, make up, pegs, a hand saw, a goat. And the blood of a virgin. Don't ask why.
i am too old for this shit. I am too young to waste my life.
i am tired. I am not sleeping.
i am quiet. I am screaming on the inside.
i am happy. I am smiling when your about, but if you leave me to my lonesome I am crying and laughing and screaming and hurting and angry and confused all at the same time.
where is that hand saw again? I want to be pretty.
YOU ARE READING
Kinda Sad and Confusing Prose/Poems
Poetrythese were written at a point where i was confused. i dont know. they make me sad now.
