I remember those days
I used to tell u all my emotions
but now that u have left
I am scared of what
u could do with them

I'll burn the papers
which burnt my soul
I'll rip out the pages
that ever proved that
I loved you
dont break my heart

my fingers trace from
my head to my toes
they like to remind
me that blood flows
to every part of my
body

my mom tries
to make my writing
look happy
she replaced the words "sorrow"
and "pain" to
"hope" and
"happiness"
what the heck is her problem?

the itch to
open and devour a book
filling myself
with emotions
that help me escape
reality
that bury my sadness
six feet deep

the urge to stay
and drown myself
in the abyss
of the
beauty
of
the language

I am ashamed of how I look
of how the excessive fat creates stretch marks all over my body
I know people throw the "love yourself" type ****
but I cant seem to do that
I am embarrassed of how the lumps of fat
form on my body
of how my thick arms cannot fit through
the sleeves
is it normal to hate yourself
for who you are?
the tears roll down my cheeks as though they're
supposed to
all I asked for was for a person to hand me a tissue
but am I that invisible?