I love my little brother,
I always write in first person;
I’m 5 feet 7 inches full of insecurity, I’ve always felt huge until I met a 5 footed 11 inched epitome of grace and poise;
Since then, I’ve been feeling too small.
I fall in love too easily, I don’t fall out of it;
I pretend to not like love poetry.
I walk with darkness dripping from my shoulders, you’ll see ghosts brighter than my soul.
I hate my body, so much I turn all the mirrors around. I wish I had the discipline of an anorexic but I feel a lot;
And by feel I mean eat.
I have a driver’s licence but I don’t know how to drive,
My faith in God died with my grandpa.
I’m the daughter of a man who believes a woman’s place
Is in the kitchen,
My mother is a victim, she chooses to be.
Like every girl on the planet, I hate shaving my legs,
I only paint the nails of my left hand because that’s convenient,
I make bad decisions.
I write a lot of suicide notes, never committing one;
I have too many fears,
I don’t want to end up in a psych ward.
I avoid social events unless I have company,
Somedays I skip brushing my teeth at night,
Some mornings, I have breakfast before I brush my teeth because I just brushed last night.
I find shampoo to be a funny word.
I have 32 teeth, my mom is 45 and has 29;
I take pride in the fact.
A lot of my poetry is a reflection of what I read,
I love collecting postcards,
I’m desperate to be understood.
I like to think I have pretty hands. I tell people that people tell me I have pretty hands;
I don’t tell them that by people I mean my grandma.
My grandma told me, “You are raised to be a good girl.”
I try hard to contain the rebel inside me,
I try hard to hide my blood smeared knuckles.
I like to believe, “Gender is something you choose to identify yourself with.”
I call myself a feminist and by that I mean I believe in equal rights for all.
I go to movies for popcorn,
I am my villain,
I am my hero.