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Feb 2015
it feels like the feather of a bird;
so light and airy like
when you're walking down the street
and someone bumps into you
you praise every higher power out there that
you didn't collapse because
you're just so small and everyone
else tells you that you're so pretty
but you don't feel pretty you just want
to go back to the old you but
that's impossible because the feeling of swallowing
something scorches your throat as if there's acid
in it and the feeling of substance in your stomach
scars more than any stretch mark ever could
and big sweaters become your best friends because they
cam hide your weight and when you're tired of everything
you just swing by park and engulf yourself with a big
sweater even though you wish it could be human touch but
you haven't let anyone touch you in 3 months because then
they'd see how hollow you are and somewhere in
the back of your mind you know this is a problem but you
don't want to admit you have another problem,
so instead you let big sweaters swallow you whole;
and you keeping cursing every time that guy on the
street comes around because if he bumps into you with
that basketball you might shatter
and you've already done so much,
and everyone thinks you look so pretty
that's all you ever wanted to be, pretty

*do you feel pretty now?
i've been trying to write a poem on this for so long but i don't like it so i might do another poem about this
heather leather
Written by
heather leather  17/F/wonderland.
(17/F/wonderland.)   
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