they'd mold me, like clay
forming shapes,
pictures of ideals.
i didn't realize how much
they forced me into parts
i wasn't meant to play.
critiquing my ways
laughing at my flaws
trying to shove me into
somewhere i never fit,
they changed my legacy
along the way.
but stop painting over
these imperfections
molded into me.
forget about chipped paint, rough sides,
because darling,
our flaws are so lovely.
YOU ARE READING
-𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝.
Poetrya collection of poems based around mental illness. = this book may contain images that trigger specific individuals. please read the content warnings and keep yourself safe! = " pounds dropping, rain drops of relapse, recovery is a journey but smal...
