juliee - Hello Poetry

you painted my mind blue and my eyes red, my blood black, and my name—dead. you traced over every insecurity like it was yours to keep, made them glow like something worth bleeding. you colored my hair purple just to see if I would stay, just to watch me become something you could erase. you painted me in smoke from the ends of your cigarettes, in the bitter rings of your coffee stains— in every habit I couldn’t forget. but most of all, you painted me in the way you held my pinkie when I cried— soft enough to save me, slow enough to lie. a blue so deep it swallowed me whole, and no matter how much you took, I still wanted more.

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Mar 24

Mar 24, 2026 at 12:10 AM UTC

paint

you painted my mind blue and my eyes red, my blood black, and my name—dead. you traced over every insecurity like it was yours to keep, made them glow like something worth bleeding. you colored my hair purple just to see if I would stay, just to watch me become something you could erase. you painted me in smoke from the ends of your cigarettes, in the bitter rings of your coffee stains— in every habit I couldn’t forget. but most of all, you painted me in the way you held my pinkie when I cried— soft enough to save me, slow enough to lie. a blue so deep it swallowed me whole, and no matter how much you took, I still wanted more.

26

i’m an angel, written by a devil a poem, written by a poet i’m a 14-year-old girl, existing in a body that isn’t mine the mirror cracks when i glance at myself, each piece cutting into my insecurities it cuts at my thighs— how they need to be smaller my hair— how it needs to be straighter my stomach— how it needs to be flatter my eyes— how they need to be brighter my teeth— how they need to be straighter but most importantly, me— how i need to be someone else i feel the shards cut deep within my skin, and i’m bleeding, and the scars only make me more ugly, then more beautiful i see beauty within others, yet i can’t see it in myself i see scars as strength rather than weakness— so why can’t i look at myself and think that too? i’m an angel, they say, but i’m written by a devil i’m a poet, but i’m written by a mentally insane poet i’m a 14-year-old girl, but she’s living in a body she doesn’t feel right in this is beauty, isn’t it?

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Mar 22

Mar 22, 2026 at 6:09 PM UTC

beauty

i’m an angel, written by a devil a poem, written by a poet i’m a 14-year-old girl, existing in a body that isn’t mine the mirror cracks when i glance at myself, each piece cutting into my insecurities it cuts at my thighs— how they need to be smaller my hair— how it needs to be straighter my stomach— how it needs to be flatter my eyes— how they need to be brighter my teeth— how they need to be straighter but most importantly, me— how i need to be someone else i feel the shards cut deep within my skin, and i’m bleeding, and the scars only make me more ugly, then more beautiful i see beauty within others, yet i can’t see it in myself i see scars as strength rather than weakness— so why can’t i look at myself and think that too? i’m an angel, they say, but i’m written by a devil i’m a poet, but i’m written by a mentally insane poet i’m a 14-year-old girl, but she’s living in a body she doesn’t feel right in this is beauty, isn’t it?

42

I hide things in my closet, like mist on a clear day— quiet, almost invisible, but always there. The rope still hangs from my last attempt, brushed up against the dress I was going to wear to the school dance— the black one with the mesh sleeves. A box of cigarettes I only touch on Monday nights at one. Empty cans of Monster I line up like memories I don’t throw away. My art— the kind my mother never lets me paint. A version of myself most people will never meet. Poetry I meant to send you, but never did. A mirror I cracked in seventh grade from staring at my face for far too long. My dusty Doc Martens I bought in secret. I keep a lot of things in that closet— secrets, pain, truth, the real version of me. I’m scared of what people would say if they ever saw it all, so I keep it locked away, hidden for the better— where no one can find the key and no one has to see who I really am.

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Mar 22

Mar 22, 2026 at 5:56 PM UTC

closet

I hide things in my closet, like mist on a clear day— quiet, almost invisible, but always there. The rope still hangs from my last attempt, brushed up against the dress I was going to wear to the school dance— the black one with the mesh sleeves. A box of cigarettes I only touch on Monday nights at one. Empty cans of Monster I line up like memories I don’t throw away. My art— the kind my mother never lets me paint. A version of myself most people will never meet. Poetry I meant to send you, but never did. A mirror I cracked in seventh grade from staring at my face for far too long. My dusty Doc Martens I bought in secret. I keep a lot of things in that closet— secrets, pain, truth, the real version of me. I’m scared of what people would say if they ever saw it all, so I keep it locked away, hidden for the better— where no one can find the key and no one has to see who I really am.

36

don’t cry little girl youre only 14 you still have a life ahead of you it’ll only get worse and worse don’t cry little girl don’t cry don’t cry little girl people walk into your lives and they leave it’s just the way people work you have to learn how to let go don’t cry little girl don’t cry don’t cry little girl the blades only going to get sharper and sharper as you get older your arms will only get worse and worse the pain and sting will only stay longer and longer don’t cry little girl don’t cry don’t cry little girl getting shoved in lockers is how life goes crying in there will only make you a worse target keep your head down and don’t make eye contact don’t cry little girl don’t cry don’t cry little girl your seen as weak to your mother that’s why she thinks she can hit you and she won’t stop if they keep falling down your face don’t cry little girl don’t cry don’t cry little girl the painting you made for your dead cat was stupid anyways it was supposed to hang on your wall so she could be with you again but if you make a fuss people will only rip it more and more don’t cry little girl don’t cry don’t cry little girl you have to be the perfect daughter around your family keep a smile on your face like a puppet hug your relatives like they never hurt you and study hard when you feel like dying don’t cry little girl don’t cry don’t cry little girl your only 14 your not supposed to feel like this yet it’s still your girlhood you should be laughing and dancing like the other girls don’t cry little girl don’t cry

0

Mar 22

Mar 22, 2026 at 5:55 PM UTC

dont cry

51

did they ever sit and listen to why you were bleeding? or how they could be bleeding too?

0

Mar 22

Mar 22, 2026 at 5:54 PM UTC

bleeding

did they ever sit and listen to why you were bleeding? or how they could be bleeding too?

2