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IDK
I don't know you
But you dance and you sing.

I don't know you
But you loved poetry.

I don't know you
But you weighed 43.

I don't know you
But size 4, that's your feet.

I don't know you
But your height, is it 5'?

I don't know you
But you were born on december 8.

I don't know you
But i think your waist is 28.

I don't know you
But you had secrets that I kept.

"I don't know you,
I really don't."

That's what I said,
you said you'd believed me though.

I don't know you,
But something tells me

You already know,
That i really do.
Many have tried expressing their feelings but ended up changing the topic.

What if they know your feelings but kept waiting for you to let them know. You should do something about it before you regret not doing it.

Got this advice on someone a while ago.
 Mar 2015 XxamnesiaXx
tiniestseed
1
i was in third grade when i was walking with my cousins who were thirteen and newly matured when men screamed at them
i was told not to worry that when i was old
they would do it to me, too
that it would happen to me someday soon
i would get the privilege of a man honking at the sight of my legs

i was in 4th grade when my choir director would wipe my tears and tell me
i wasn't fat when everyone else told me i was
i had the prettiest voice and i
could go digging for chocolates in his pockets
for being the best girl

i was in 6th grade when a boy in art class would slide his hand up my thigh while the teacher wasn't there
he hated me he said
i was fat

it was 6th grade when i was followed home by the man in the yellow house but everyone still says i was just scared
he still looks at me funny

i was in seventh grade when i blushed at my first cat call and held it with pride
i was old enough for this now
some boys didn't think i was fat i was a prize
i told everyone

it was seventh grade when i was at my locker
there was a breath on my neck
close your legs it smells like fish

i was seventeen when i thought i had My Own Moment
how bad do you want it he said
i think you're bleeding he said

i was in the eleventh grade when i tried to make it stop
shhh just enjoy it
i still wear those underwear

i want to know why i hate my body and crumble in fear when i see it
why did i hold my belly and ask my mom if i was fat
at age three

2
i was eighteen when i started ******* to correct the mistakes
taking off my clothes for the men who ask to see my ***** on a pixelated cellphone screen
i'm not allowed to linger on anyone's skin

my purpose on this earth is not to make you ***
there are fires inside me that you could never put out

do not **** me while on a conquest for something better
i am not available at the gas station
on your pit stop to a better place

i want to be ****** in my favorite dress
by someone who takes the time
to learn my last name
We live in a world with so much hatred
When will true peace be won?
Why are we judged by our own skin?
Will love ever conquer the world over money?
I am afraid of the thoughts of others
I'm not lost in who I am because I know who I am
I'm lost in other people's view
Because somehow I feel like my views don't matter
But I'm wrong when I say I don't matter
Because my views matter,
Just as much as others
**** every person who ever said "don't romanticize self harm"

**** every person who just stared and never asked how I was

And **** those friends who never helped, who never even cared to bring it up when I gave myself stitches in their ******* bathrooms.

There is nothing romantic about the slashing of your own flesh. There is NOTHING beautiful about the change of skin tone on my legs from scar upon scar. There is nothing romantic about self harm but the love of my life can touch my scars and I can ******* undress for once without hiding.

She can graze and stare and one day she kissed.
She kissed and she kissed and she ******* kissed until my eyes burned and I was shattered. She ******* broke my ribs when she touched them and punctured my lungs when her lips plunged into my valleys of pink and purple and I wanted nothing more than my scars kissed.
I wanted nothing more than to be ******* loved and my pain to be ******* recognized and romanticized until I couldn't feel it anymore.

So **** those who said don't romanticize self harm.

Because I am scared and weak and sad and I want to be swooned and coddled and treated like the wounded bird I am. My wings were clipped with my own hands and she desperately tries to heal them with every ******* kiss.

And I can feel the bones form and the feathers grow

I was a ******* crow and she made me a dove.
They say if I want to fit in

Than I should

Walk like them

Talk like them

Dress Like them


They say that beauty

Is in the eye of the beholder

Well, someone needs to inform them

Because they say that in order to be pretty

Or to fit in

You have to be like them


It's everywhere you go

On the television on your favorite show

On the billboards you pass on the road

On the books that you read

On the movie screens

On the cover of magazines


They are there

They are what we all wish to be

They have the perfect faces

With the perfect teeth

With the perfect long legs

And the perfect bodies


We know that they aren't that perfect

But we still want to be like them

We know that they use filters

And have the top make-up artist working on them



Yet we still

Want to spend hundreds of dollars

So that we can have those clothes that they wear

Have that look  

By buying that $20 make-up


They rule our lives

They rule our minds

But why ?


Why do we let them decide

We need to take back our power

We need to show some self pride

We should stop looking to them

To tell us what pretty is

We need to become a me

A I'm pretty
Instead of a their pretty
We need to look at ourselves

And set the standard

Because your you

So you should be you

Instead of a them
 Mar 2015 XxamnesiaXx
Kareena
I think it's time to say goodbye
To Hello Poetry completely
It's made me laugh and made my cry
But it hurts me more, secretly

It's my 200th poem and it is the time
To stop writing to a void
To stop rereading poems of love
When I have another choice

My heart keeps hurting with every poem
That reminds me of you and I
So instead of reopening unhealing wounds
I decided to say goodbye

*Goodbye
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