My friend wrote this: Screw up What screws us up most in life is them, Those perfect two-faced girls, Who tell us we aren’t good enough, Those people make us hurl. They tell us our scars are ugly, Rips in our skin don’t hurt, But the internal ones rip like bullets, At least I don’t hitch up my skirt. The floor is our friend, We’re often very close, Since our faces are pressed against it, Real friends, adios. Just because our eyes don’t show tears, Doesn’t mean our hearts aren’t drowning, Are we not beautiful enough for you? Our mouths spend their time frowning. Through cracked smiles we mutter, We’re okay, It only hurts when we breathe, Are we sure want to live another day? Following hope we crash too fast, Hurt too easy, Until we are broken shells, Though we always Love too freely. We are often the girls who smile through the day, Laugh through lunch, But we cry ourselves to sleep, Only ones like us see through the act, or just have a hunch. Should we follow society? Be plastic dolls, similarity Or shall we let our colours shine, And feel the smiles, unfamiliarity Life is a balancing act, Of holding on and letting go, Crushed by others slowly, Smiling, even so. Some wait a day for Friday, Some wait a month for summer, We wait a lifetime for happiness, Knowing girls like you is a bummer. You cry because you’re weak, We cry because we’ve been strong for too long, You hurt because you bashed your knee, We hurt because our lives relate to that song. Whilst your biggest lie is ‘I look ugly’ Ours is ‘I look okay’ Because our problems involve anorexia, Depression, right here today. Some of us can describe others, Pretty, clever, social, funny Artistic, sporty, beautiful, sweeter than honey But when asked to turn the tables on ourselves? Ugly, stupid, crazy, fat, unacquainted, Insane, delirious, unsocial, upset, Unhappy, alone, isolated. We wish our hours away, Tick,tock,tick,tock, We are the united nation of okay, If okay meant not. You can’t say you know us, If we don’t know ourselves, We aren’t items of food, Plucked from the shelves. Although our stories are similar, None are the same, We are all worshippers, Of life, it’s a game. People change but memories don’t, A constant thrum in our chests, Remind us we’re still here, Watching the birds build their nests. But there are bright patches, We must not wait for the storm to pass, But learn to dance through the rain, Shining brighter than brass. Other times, like autumn leaves, Or when a person makes us smile, Or when we enjoy the sun, We’re elated as if we’d run a mile. Day after day we’re the screw-ups, The weaklings, the underdogs, The shy, the unprotected, We aren’t lime-light hogs. But how dare you call us cowards, After what we face everyday, You think being abused Is something that’s okay? Maybe our pretences slipped a little, When we thought you were nice, A mistake we now regret, Your personalities are icier than ice. Do not confuse us with broken toys, We still have a use, Just crying on the floor and hurting, Isn’t apparently an excuse.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Jul 2013 11:59:30 +0000
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