I am not writing this
to get attention
or pity
or so people will tell me
I'm beautiful the way I am.

I am writing this
because when I post a poem about
being terrified to look at myself
because I hate what I see,
it should not be added to a collection titled
Humorous.

I am writing this
because when I sit at a lunch table
without a brown paper sack,
boys should not laugh when they ask
what, are you anorexic?

I am writing this
because when I watch Disney Channel
with my eight-year-old cousin,
I should not hear jokes
about skipping meals.

I am writing this
because when you google
anorexia is,
the first suggestion should not be
anorexia is good.

I am writing this
because our society should not
expect people to be paper thin
but judge them
for trying to get there.

I am writing this
because insecurities
are not a joke,
*no one
should be laughing.

You say you don't want to hurt me.
But then, why do you do it?
You say you don't want to hurt me,
But you never spend time with me.
You say you don't want to hurt me,
But you stop replying out of nowhere.
You say you don't want to hurt me,
But you still don't consider anything that I've told you hurts me.
You don't consider the fact that I hate being ignored.
You don't consider the fact that I can't be spoken to in an angry tone.
You don't consider the fact that I'm sensitive.
You don't consider the fact that I'm not a toy.
If you don't want to hurt me,
Then why do you do it?

For a few moments, I want to swallow the past,
to stare in the face this old chapter of life.
time have come for a final reading
and see what I did and did not wrong.
delete characters, events,
to forgive them and forgive mine.
there is not much time and I would have to start again
to write my own end, to build my new time line
and conserve most pleasant moments,
to just take less from people,
so I can write about beauty and truth.

but this is just a chapter, of my former life
and undo is a fairy tale of memories
and the point of this is writing a new chapter in life.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I have bad gas,
So I'll **** on you.

She runs her hands through your hair from underneath you as your hands caress her waist.
Her tongue draws back as just your lips collide once more.
Your hands press into her hips, holding her in place as you trail slow, gentle kisses along her neck.
Her breath hitches as you kiss her, stopping on particular places to leave a mark.
Your lips attach to hers quickly, flipping yourselves over so that she's on top of you.
You caress her gently, like she's the only person you need.
But why can't she be me?

Why can't you ******* leave me alone?!
Why can't you stop bothering me?!
Why do you have to be such an *******?!
We are not alike.
Nothing we do is alike.
YOU ******* SCARE ME.
JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME IN MY MISERY.