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Jun 2013
One day I will look in the mirror and find a stranger

There are studs of silver all over my room from when I was younger
and all I wanted to do was shove unknown metals through my skin
and call it rebellion.

There are black nailpolish bottles, and scissors for cutting my own hair
and face paint for when I wanted nothing else but to look like Bowie
I am not a normal teenage girl, and I think I guess I'm an adult now.

I kissed boys on the mouth when I was wishing they'd kiss my soul
I tried to drown myself in the bathtub until I figured out that I couldn't breathe-
and that I wanted to.

There is nothing poetic about the way that I want so badly on Saturday nights
to cut into my own skin with whatever sharp object I can find
There is nothing poetic about how I haven't left the house in three months except
to go buy hair dye so I don't have to recognize myself anymore.

I don't find poetry in the stars anymore because they remind me too much of you.

I looked in the mirror today and found a stranger
and nothing about this is poetic.
Written by
blankpoems  Canada
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