Fading Out (poems about life)

I'm Not Her

I've never been the kind of girl they like.
Eyes frosted over with a cool, icy haze,
A mouth unfiltered, wearily honest,
Feet grounded so far into the earth,
that I am unmoveable,
Stuck in the dirt, bloody, and dishevelled.

I will never be perfect, golden,
The rest of the world is glittering,
Whilst I am shrouded in shadow.
Hiding, darkness is where I feel calm;
I'm not the delicate-faced, starry-eyed girl
That they want me to be.

A girl scattered with scars from head to toe,
A bouquet of thorns instead of flowers,
Nettles braided into a tangled mess of hair.
Eyes equally ready to glitter with mirth,
Or darken with untameable rage.
Running with the wolves rather than playing dolls.

I'm never going to be the person
They want me to be.