Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
When I was younger

People would tell me to love myself

Back then,

I would ask,

Who doesn't?

8 years later,

I ask,

*Who does?
I'm not dead
                                                                                                   But I'm not alive
I'm not living
                                                                                    I'm just trying to survive
We're all playing the same game
                                                                                              Just different levels
We're all in the same hell
                                                                                            Just different devils
To love and to be in love are very different.
Just like to be loved and to be valued. Learn the difference.
Beauty.
The standard goal.
Society kills me.
They tell you to “be yourself, you’re beautiful”
Judge you for it,
Then encourage you to do it again.
Who are they to decide?
In fact, who decided the status quo,
What determines true beauty?
They say everyone’s beautiful in their own way,
But that’s just the appetizer.
The main course is the “fact” that everyone’s different,.
And in order to achieve the standard level of “perfect”,
“Buy this item! It’ll make you more perfect, I swear!”
“Wear these clothes, it’ll complement the parts of your body we’ve defined as
‘Attractive’!”
“Do these workouts, it’ll give you a flatter stomach, tighter abs, a sexier beach body!”
The fact that they took our weak spot,
Perfection
And dangled the idea,
The possibility in front of us
To sell their products
To keep us coming back, to make money
Because, let’s be real, money’s everything.
They convince us that we can achieve something that doesn't exist,
But we want it to,
We hope for it,
Because….what?
Looks are everything?
No.
In 80 years, we’ll all look old and weird, so what’s the point?
Look good everyday,
Hope someone finds you attractive,
Potentially fall in “love” with somebody who only desires your looks?
If that’s your goal, ***, you've got your priorities mixed up
Life’s not gonna care whether you’re
Attractive,
Ugly,
Skinny,
Thick,
Short,
Tall,
Smart,
Stupi­d,
Or the greatest person alive.
It’s gonna knock you down no matter what,
And in 120 years, we’ll all be dead anyway.
Why waste your time hoping to accomplish a false reality,
So you can live your years in luxury,
Rather than just being thankful and happy?
Don’t spend your time trying to get to what you don’t even want,
But have been programmed to accept.
Re-program yourself.
***** the system.
WE DECIDE WHAT THE STANDARD FOR BEAUTY IS. I SAY **** IT, WHY IS THERE A STANDARD AT ALL?
You see,
I am an artist

I draw with silver
But it comes out red
I relapsed. 0 days clean....
Dear love,
Isn’t there a better way for you to force yourself upon me?
Why must you be so painful?
Why is it necessary to **** me slowly, or to push me to the edge where I’ll simply do it for you?
Thanks to you, I love you is now an agonizing phrase,
Thanks to you, I fall in love so much easier,
Thanks to you, I’m not eating,
Thanks to you, I’m not sleeping so well,
Thanks to you, I’m questioning my self-worth,
Thanks to you, I see his face in everything, I hear his laugh in everything, I hear his voice, telling me it’ll be okay
But it won’t
Thanks to you, I’m in love with someone who couldn’t possibly love me
Thanks to you, I’m overdosing on Painkillers to numb the pain.
Thanks to you, I’m dying slowly.
Whoever said love was beautiful?
Silence.
Who knew a word of seven letters, two syllables, could mean so much?
Silence.
That feeling of emptiness when you sit by yourself wondering why you’re not enough.
Why you’re not beautiful
Why you’re not skinny
Why you’re not perfect
Silence.
What you say when you love someone but they don’t feel the same so you fake a smile and say you’re okay
But you’re not.
Silence.
When you wanna say something, anything.
But you can’t bring yourself to.
Silence.
Like a rope, holding you back from grasping what’s inches away.
What you want so badly but can’t reach.
To me, silence is meaningless.
To me, silence is just a reminder that no, we in fact, CAN’T always say what’s on our minds.
Because sometimes it hurts too much to even try
So we give up.
Forever locked in the prison
Of a meaningless silence.
I scream and I shout and I jump up and down
But no one cares to listen
I cry and I beg and I plea with the crowd
But no one cares to listen
Am I invisible? Is everyone deaf?
Or does no one care to listen?
Are people blind? Am I dead?
Or does no one care to listen?
I want someone to notice me, to say that it’s okay
To wipe away the tears, show me that the world’s not grey.
Just have someone be there, always night and day-
But sadly, no one cares to listen.
Can someone, anyone hear my cry?
If no one does, I think I might die
I’m running out of tears to cry
But no one cares to listen
No one cares to listen
No one cares.
Listen
~Julianna Walters
I escape.
A new world, a new name, a forgotten past,
Kissed by the wind and her fingers on my back,
I travel to solitude.
Whispers of the storm, cloud my mind,
and swirl my thoughts, and leave me blind, until
I am still.
I capture stars in my eyes as they dance in their abyss.
I know they are bound beauties that tease my heart with twinkling eyelashes,
I stare at the abyss in regret and it cries,
I could almost fall in her gaze.
“The Last”, I decide,
The time for bottles and lamps and the creatures that live within them is past,
My future is not with stars,
My tears form,
I feel the loving embrace of the wind
She knows my heart, yet is silent.
“Thank you”, escapes the tongue..
Next page