All my life,
you said what you said.
I did what you said.

I wore full-sleeved clothes.
I stayed quiet.
My cries went into vacuum—
swallowed, silent.

But you always stood strong.
It’s the colour of skin.
The hair you couldn’t tame.
The nose that wasn’t yours.

I always just...
heard what you said
until my ears bled out.

You remind me of the mountains—
the ones I grew up with:
tall, oddly shaped, and proud.
It’s shocking
that my tears made you crumble,
like a lost girl at sea.

Glad to see,
the past haunts you
like it does me.

It’s all Choreography, you see,
How I know just what to say,
How I smile at your life,
My enthusiasm about your new boo.
Don’t worry,
Don’t worry,
Don’t worry your perfect little head,
About my loss,
About my body,
About my hair.

It’s all Choreography, you see,
I’ll probably tell you about the one good day,
Some award I won for being nice,
And spew some pseudo-intelligent *******
But I know
Oh, I know
I know all too well you’ll see through me

It’s all Choreography, you see,
I’ve been training since I was five,
It’s meticulously planned
And executed flawlessly as
Warm hugs, laughs, kind eyes and sweet, sweet words.

It’s all Choreography, I know
I’d rather do this,
Because,
I dance alone anyway!

It was the books,
The same ones I read,
Over the summers,
In the libraries
That told me it was okay to wish.
So I wished,
For a **** body,
Like the ones on the posters.
I did not get that,
So I moved on.

It was probably TV,
The shows with eternal love,
Chemistry that was across lifetimes,
Romance and slow dances.
So I wished again,
For a tall funny man,
He will be my mirror I thought,
That shattered too

Why wish at all?
It is a futile thought
Like the sky you’ll never reach.

always in the shadows
never the one in the spotlight
always the helper
never the one to shine

always in second
never the first choice
always the thinker
never the voice

tear me down and break me
cause I don't matter
take my heart just to
leave it to shatter

I try my best to shine
but someone always shines brighter
I try and try
but I'm not a fighter

not in first and not in last
always somewhere in between
I', quite unremarkable
I'm never seen

You are still alive in me
The way your eyes would find me in the crowd,
How you would smile looking at me,
I was the prize.
You are still alive in me
The short walks, the long walks,
The sunsets, the fireworks,
I was the luckiest.
You are still alive in me
Your hands always trying to reach mine,
Every time the coffee slipped off mine,
I was the silliest.
You are still alive in me
In the long shadows,
In the dialogues of that action movie,
I was dramatic.
You are still alive in me
I’ll imagine her hands,
I’ll imagine her face,
I’ll imagine her smile,
I am defeated.

I see in your eyes,
Two shallow pools of white with coffee mixed in,
I tremble before them,
You judge me too hard.
I hear it in your words,
The desperation reeks,
Its care you say,
I don’t feel it anyway.
I see the way you are,
Insincere and shapeshifting,
You’ll love conditionally
‘Don’t worry’ you reach your hand out
Each time we touch I die a little more
Its scary out there,
Look in the mirror to feel safe
My mind puts up a fight
So I need you all again
The pity holds me well
Well enough to try again

There lives a stranger in my head,
She sees everything I see,
Hears everything I miss.
She has long hair, endless that flows into a river
She has small eyes that disappear at night
She preys on love like ants on a sugar cube
She grows stronger in hurt
Her hands are long, wrap me up in an instant
Suffocate me with hate I've forgotten
She waits patiently for prey to present themselves
Destroys only what she loves
The rest of the world watches me
As I stand helpless

She tied her hair up,
Set out on a journey,
To write something ugly.
It has to be not quite right
A little loopy,
Like looking at the mirror
It has to make people squirm,
Also make them hungry,
It has to be ugly.
It can't have deep meaning!
Maybe it can be about the boy,
The same one who couldn’t spell.
It shouldn’t rhyme!
It shouldn’t make sense really!
It has to be something ugly.
The gods spoke to her,
They said, ugly is good
Relatable, lost in the crowd
But seen by a few.
Those few beady eyes mean nothing,
For a girl who can't see through the mirror
It has to be ugly.
Like the time her mother told her so
Remind people of overflowing bins
The abstract art that she pretended to like
The cesspool of love that she floats in
Try harder now,
This isn’t hitting the spot
It has to be ugly.