The only way I can relieve
all this missery
all this pain
is to scream,
but instead I'll write it in a letter
I thought it be better.
My mother doesn't trust me
she doesn't believe in me.
Every word I speak is yet another lie she hears.
Even though I speak with my cheeks stained with tears.
I guess you get use to it after so many years.
I pick myself apart on a daily basis
my hair is too short
I'm too fat and way too awkward.
I always think I embarrass myself infront of stranger's faces.
I'm quck to judge myself
but even quicker to give compliments
I do this so they don't feel the way I do.
Sad, depressed and lonely.
But weren't we born to be unique
and not just a molded figurine?
Now I realize
being perfect is all just a fantasy.
After all I'm just learning to love.
Learning to love every flaw my body holds.
I think I finally acheived my goals.
As I look in the mirror I now see a strong, out going girl.
My many flaws is what makes me so flawless.