my body and i, we never really had the best past
i would damage her because of the words people said
never first choice, always picked last
i felt so poorly, sometimes i believed that i’d be better off dead
two counselors later, and a few marks on my wrist
my doctors told me to make a list
of all the things i loved about my body
i’d look in the mirror, and my face would twist
i’d start with my eyes, small but stunning
maybe my face? no, it jiggles while running
my scars, how i love and hate them so
they show me where i’ve been, and how much i’ve got to grow
my list would end there
i’m not too fond of laying my emotions bare
the sixteen years i’ve been alive
perfection is the state in which i strive
i realize that while other girls may seem fine
they skip the hours and hurt themselves
to cut down the days they dine
throughout my journey, jumping through doctors
i’ve done nothing but reevaluate and prosper
i am still not content with where i am
but i look good in my jeans and i refuse to give a ****
my sister cries, her eyes stinging
not tears of sadness, she’s just happy to hear me again, talking more and singing
about two months later, the third chair in her office is where i sit
my doctor asked me about the progress of my list
now i look in the mirror and my face still twists
not because i am unhappy with myself
but because it took me so long
more than seven months of being strong
to choose myself over the words people said
i decided to pick up my self hate and put it back on the shelf
because the hurt i inflicted on my mind, body, and soul, was a crime against oneself
my body is beautiful, despite the words of others
and i vow to ALWAYS choose myself over the words of another
but then he came into my life and gave it meaning,
made it feel like i had something to believe in, my face beaming
your feelings being unnavigable,
made me feel like the possibility of us was inconcievable
loving me is the furthest thing from fashionable,
but my hope is that when you read this you’ll be any form of rational
when you see the way i look at you as you walk
or the way i admire how you smile when you talk
i know somwtimes i make it seem like i don’t care,
but when you’re not present, the day becomes a little harder to bear.
from your variations of colors on your size too big hoodies,
to your weeks display of your shoe collection
the thought of seeing you makes me feel secure in the mornings as i stare at my reflection
doubting my worth
“If i do this to my eyelids will he look at me differently?”
or how about i skip lunch and say that at breakfast i had plenty?
but the truth is that nothing will make you see me the way i see you
there’s simply nothing i could do
to you, i’m nothing but a charity
or at least that’s the way i see it
“lemme flirt with the fat girl, let’s see how it goes”
i’m sure your friends love the show, i know they look at you when you walk in the hall with me
“i wonder if she knows?”
of course i do, but the truth is, any form of attention from you is enough to end my day’s streak of blue. i know that you’ll never take my words seriously
and that me sending my assignments is the only reason you keep me around
but when we walk in the hall together, and our arms brush ever so slightly
that single motion stops all sound, the only people in the hallway are you and i, but when we get to our next class and you don’t look at me, i rethink what i did to make you view me differently. was it the way i spoke? did i try too hard?
i probably should have known better than to let down my guard.
five days a week, up to three times a day
that’s the only time i see you
maybe everyday if i’m lucky,
i’ll find some words to say and you can change the direction of my day that’s been blue.
your friends have been kinder,
i’m guessing they feel the end nearing
i mean, how could i have been blinder?
flirting with the fat girl never has meaning
but then you made me feel like the only girl in the world
you came to my doorstep and your true feelings unfurled
he colored me crimson, he colored me rose
i wish it were sweeter, but that’s not how our story goes
your hands around my neck made my breath hitch,
it made my legs go limp, and my fingers twitch
after every quarrel you’d tell me how you loved me so
and that after every match, your love for me would only grow
you broke me, and i called it love
sometimes i’d feel so weak, and question if there was a god above
how could he let this happen to me?
i thought that being a teenager was supposed to be easy.
you left for college and i was left bare
not knowing how my life would go on without you there
i can breathe much clearer and without strain
i’ve set myself free, able to think with my own brain
you are not here to hurt me so, my mind is flourishing and it’s got room to grow
i sometimes wonder if you think of me, or if you’ve got another to make you happy
then, i remember what it was like with you here,
how trapped i was, making myself small and not letting anyone near
your rough hands against my skin made me want to die
now i wear short sleeved shirts, fabric thin,
regretting the time’s i’d let your words make me sit and cry
i love myself now, and i’ve got your absence to thank
for as soon as you left, my slate became blank
i can speak without fear, be bare faced without shame
but i have more therapy now and i’ve got you to blame
four hundred plus miles between us and you still manage to continue to hurt me so
i wish that along with your presence, my feelings for you would go
it should have been sweeter but that’s not how our story goes
i hate and despise you so, but my love for you still grows.
then you came back, said it was a teaching opportunity
you being two years older should’ve opened my eyes, how silly of me.
the lingering looks in the hallways leave me in my next class thinking of all the ways i could make you happy, but my thoughts are cut short when i realize that the only time others see you notice me is when we’re in private, which is never. the lengths i went to just so i could get even the slightest bit of your attention could’ve been classified as a crime against oneself. we’d spend hours on end talking at night, so was it really foolish of me to think that approaching you in the public eye wouldn’t cause you so much fright? you’d tell me to meet you in the lonely hours of the night because you claimed the way you felt when i was with you was the perfect remedy for your depression. so tell me, was it wrong of me to get the “wrong impression”? after the countless hours we’d spend together or was it just some bizzare overfelt therapy session? i’d seen you with another girl, so my suspicions arose. perhaps you liked her therapy sessions more because hers didn’t involve clothes. hours later, you called me, said you needed me, but out of respect for myself i told you that my bedroom window would have to remain closed. every day, it was a different girl, with different stories, but you’d still contact me, why? i know that boys like you enjoy the thrill of it all but what about me? what about the way that i feel? i have to admit, it did hurt when you didn’t call, but that was all the assurance i needed to know that nothing from the past months had been real. there had been a week where you payed me no mind, and the pain that my fragile heart felt was that of the worst kind. i hate you, but i love you so. you’ve pushed me to the best of my limits, and you’ve helped me grow. pretty little senior boy is what i used to say, i’d fall at your feet if you told me to, but you still wouldn’t give me the time of day. pretty little senior boy, was it fun to hurt me so? showing off to your foolish friends, did they enjoy the show? the night of my birthday was the first time we ever truly talked. i liked the sound of your voice and the way you smiled when you walked. i never understood why you chose me. why couldn’t you let me be? i shared my deepest thoughts with you and you blew them off as if they were nothing but miniscule. i was bllinded by your lies and you just left me here, looking like a fool. i’m sorry that i wasn’t enough to make you feel brand new, but after all this time i’ve finally woken up and i refuse to be with someone who makes me feel so blue.
then i lost conciousness, left my mind, body, and soul
sadness had overcome me, it’s taken its toll
haven’t washed my hair in seven days,
my body in three.
i don’t know what’s happening to me.
i can feel myself slipping
i don’t know what to do.
i’ve been feeling like my days are numbered
all i’ve got left is a few
my parents won’t listen to my silent cries for help
they don’t notice how i sit at my window for hours
watching the snow melt
wishing it was me.
one more slip, then none.

Imagine you're in class, and there's a boy with a cross dangled on his neck.
I bet everyone thinks it's normal because his name's Jared, and his daddy drives a Corvette.
What about Isaac, the boy in English class who wears a yarmulke on his head, and fasts for holidays?
Were your anti-semetic slurs not enough to make him want to end his days?
And how about Iman from your class of History?
Why do your peers at school same her because she chooses to practice her faith differently?
Society has taught people that there are only certain religions to follow,
So excuse me, supremacists,
If America is so great, why does the environment feel so hollow?

So Jared, he must be pretty cool, right?
I bet he keeps his hair gelled and his jeans real tight.
He doesn't get called weird, and he doesn't get asked to take his necklace off.
So why does he get a free pass when everytime Iman walks by, a few people stare and scoff.
"So like, do you even have any hair?" they ask her as she walks down the hall.
She fixes her hijab annd puts her head down and drowns in a sea of embarrassment.
She can't help but sit and wonder why she even came to school at all.
the next day the kids at lunch rip off Isaacs yarmulke,
and ask about the labor of his ancestors.
"Well you have to know. you're Jewish!" they say. but they don't acknowledge his pain inside that festers.
"You should be proud of who you are and not judge others" the teachers chant.
But they cannot look me in the eye and tell me that that they haven't give "The Muslim and the Jew" a second glance.
So, excuse me, supremacists,
I beg of you; Let the children be free, let them dance through the day.
Let those with shadowed beliefs speak out, and say what they want to say.
Let the broken hearted children have the freedom to peacefully pray.

In your so called "Pledge of Allegiance" that you make the children rise for, you recite that we are all indivisible, and under God, but do you really believe that?
I mean you must not, since half of you reading this have done nothing and seen someone of another religion or race treated like crap.
So tell me, when was God decided to be marked absent in the classrooms where we are supposed to be taught?
Freedom? Equality? Justice? Aren't those the things for which our brothers fought?
Excuse me, Supremacists, let me tell you that closing the doors to God, opens the doors for the Devil,
and we cannot let the ignorance of those who are afraid to believe bring us down another level.

Those that you pushed down before? They pushed back, only harder
The boy you called a "***** Jew" , his faith only grew stronger.
The girl you called a "terrorist" and a "*******" , she went home and prayed a little longer.
Your hate wiil only fuel their faith. Your negativity is what burnt yours out.
You gave up on God, and the belief that he wasn't there to help you, filled your heads with doubt.
So, tell me supremacists,
Is it really those who peacefully practice that are in the wrong?
Or is it you, who lost faith and is scared,
So you keep singing the same old song?
Let the children be free,
Let the children live,
For if you deprive them of their religious freedom and acceptance,
They will have nothing left to give.

Do you need me, in the lonely hours of the night?
Let my love consume you, and your soul will be at ease.
With the a swift touch, the feeling of your affection, I beg of you, don’t be a tease.
As I lie awake and think of you at night,
I feel fine, everything’s alright.
Your touch makes me feel like the only girl in the world,
I know that’s not true, you’ve got your way around,
putting the other girls’ minds in a whirl.
I get excited when you come to my window at night, to see your eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
But your breath reeks of *** Spice, i’m gasping for air as your hands around my neck grow tight.
  
Your words that hurt me are forgotten as I feel your kiss against my neck.
The sensation you give me, makes me feel like I can fly,
But the days your hands find their way arond my neck, all I want to is die.
I know you love me, I know that you do.
You only forget to love me on the nights you’ve had a few.
The next day you always approach me at school, full of apologies.
I lie and say there’s no excuse for your atrocities.
You know I love you too much to let you go,
This thing I’ve called love has kept me at an all time low.
  
You call me at night, say you need to see me.
You tell me to be quiet, as you force me down and kiss me slowly.
With the smell of Mike’s prominent on your breath,
All I can think about is my time of death.
You never love me when I ask you to, you act like it’s a chore,
But you expect me to respond to your beck and call when you come knocking at my door.
Physicality isn’t another word for love, you only use me when you feel unwanted;
I want you all to myself, but you make me feel disheartened.
The love you give me is not from within, but the alcohol that reeks off of your skin.
As I stand at the top of the bridge, jump, drop my weight, go down full throttle.
You take a smooth sip from your brown rimmed bottle