Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
She
She is not like everyone else.
She doesn't care what she looks like
She doesn't care if she's perfect
Because she knows she isn't
She knows she will never fit in
She knows she will always be weird
She is the KING amongst queens
She is the girl who never saw her own beauty
But wished she could gaze upon herself like you glare at her
She will never be '****'
She will never be 'pretty'
She will never be 'girly'
But she will be her
And somehow, 'her' was enough.
I never write poems about myself but I decided to, so this is kinda what I think of me. So every time you see 'she', put 'I', maybe you'll find yourself in the poem too.
Nights like these I wish I had someone to lay with.
To kiss, hold, and just be myself with.
I will lose myself within his abyss.
I know one day I'll find him.
His mind will be wonderful and his thoughts will stop time.
I will become addicted to his eyes and the way he sighs.
His heart will be pure and collide with mine.
His imperfections will seem perfect to me
He will let his mind run free.
I'll fall for his laughter and the way he sleeps
I'll show him how everything he hates about himself makes him beautiful but most importantly unique.
I will wait for the man who will hold my hand and stay away from the boys who treat girls like toys.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-
Her eyes are kind her heart is warm
She is a Rose, I am a Thorn
We catch and ride the wild steed
I’m so alive and she’s so free

In the gazebo we dance until dawn
Our bodies lay naked out on the lawn
Completely fulfilled and finally whole
I have no intention of her letting go

Wheels are turning my heart is yearning
A lust for life subconsciously burning
I breathe too deep and the dream is lost
I start the day with a secret thought

Perhaps she was fictional beyond conclusion
A kaleidoscope of colors, a beautiful delusion
If only to awake and find her near
Instead I sleep and gasp for air...
Traveler Tim
Re po to dec 2016
And again to
11-17
As I walk,
On the black top.
Till my feet bleed.
My wings tattered,
Soul destroyed.
Fearing for my life,
From the might of your words.
You brought this upon us...
Now I leave you,
Without saying Goodbye.
Without saying 3 little words.
They don't mean anything,
When I say them to you.

Only one thing left to say,
I'm sorry,
*But this is MY LIFE.
Some issues went down and it was not pretty.. Don't ask either
Skin as fair as ivory
Eyes as arresting as the art of crime
Nose, a high ground where her pride lay
Lips as fragile as her wavering will

She flashed the most agonized smile in the mirror
Beauty so ethereal, beauty breathtaking as a scene
A brew of knife stains, self-loathing and twisted charm

Her face a cherubim's wail
Plagued with deformities she herself named
Miserably patched with skin-shallow creams and cuts
Spilling her diffusing worth with the bitterness of her shame

She looked at the mirror again
(Perhaps the only thing keen on heeding her tell-tale facade)
Where she rendezvoused with a floating ghost in her likeness
Although not quite
For it was a stranger,
Profoundly stranger than the biting truth
she managed to live with
And a face that launched a thousand lies
Next page