We live in a society full of insecurity Red lips Dark eyes Fake tan. Forced smiles Closed eyes Clenched fists, Show no weakness Show no mercy Small hands on pale stomachs Eyes constantly searching for ways to rid that extra pound That extra curve **** in Deep breath Back straight Every calorie counts. Is this really the world that we live in? Is this the life that we wish to lead? Our lives are no longer determined by the way that we think They are not dedicated to achieving our dreams To pursuing our goals No The way that we live is based upon the way that we look And thus, the way that we are treated We are always going to compare ourselves to another That is a given If we don't look good then we aren't happy Right? But for others to determine the fates of ourselves depending strictly upon a template of "perfection"? Perfection is a disease The very aspect of it plagues your mind Inhabits your soul And brings upon an individual an idea of something to achieve That is nearly impossible to achieve It is a roller coaster that only goes down A concoction that only leads to inevitable heartache and pain A poison that has no known cure And it hurts Perfection hurts.
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may **** me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise again and again.
I think of you every time I go to the movies because you wanted to take me there so bad but I was scared because I thought you would force me to kiss you in the dark again and I think of you when I wear my red Doctor Who shirt because you and your mom said you loved it the first time we hung out and I think of you when I pass the kids in the hallway who used to tease us because I remember you losing your temper and I think of you when I watch Once Upon a Time on my couch because that's where we first held hands and I think of you when I pass by your house because you invited me there so many times but I didn't go because I knew I wouldn't be able to say no and I think of you when I call myself stupid because you'd always say there's a difference between acting careless and being dumb and that what I thought I was was wrong and I think of you when I pass the spot in the hallway where my tears were words but only I could understand them where I had my best friend say goodbye and we hugged for the very last time and I don't know if it was a mistake but even though you're three months gone, *you still make me think in run-on's.