Pale bare skin
hasn’t seen the sun since some time last August.

Dark roots growing out
since lack of bleaching summer rays.

Dinners of Turkey and slices of pie
pile fat onto my body.

Insecurites

Talk to guys, but haven’t been able to make one stay
since the last one left in August.

Coldness has seeped into my skin
filling my veins with icy bitterness

Oh sun, fill me with warmth
shine, sizzle, burn confidence into my being.

Conceal

What is that one thing that is killing us all?
What is that one thing we can never face?
What is that one thing we let people use against us?
(our insecurities)

Here is a message from me to you:

Let go of your insecurities,
I know it might be hard but you gotta take one step at a time.
You are a beautiful and strong human being,
don't let anyone bring you down.
Don't you ever have doubt in yourselves.
There is at least one person who sees past your flaws,
and loves you for who you are.

Be strong and don't let anyone bring you down. :)

I know why Vincent Van Gogh Cut off his own ear

We are a mad bunch, you see
Poets and painters and playwrights
On the prowl for something to
jump start our perpetual yearnings,
our keen senses and cravings,
on the quest for so much more
than the status quo,
of merely checking off just another day
from our calendars

We are those kinds of people
Who wish to reinvent the world
Often cursing at our failings and insecurites
While obsessively working to shape and sculpt
our view of this planet
To fit our own brand of imagination
To satisfy our starving hopes
and desperate dreams
To foster vivid visions
from the views that are vague  
And to wipe away
The nightmares of old
that cry out in us

We believe in make-believe
We who are misfits to "normalcy"
We rarely seem to fit into
The "real world"
Yet we know that this world is
Pure insanity
Stark madness
Sheer perplexion
Yet we are the ones
suffering for the sake
of our art
Often misunderstood
Many times branded as "weirdos"

I can understand the pain
Of not getting my art right
Of not seeing its worth
Because someone sniffed at it
Or scoffed at it
Or blindly passed it by
Many times, we want to break through
And join the world of our works of art
But we can't
We're stuck in the middle of its beauty
And nothingness

Yes
I know why Vincent Van Gogh cut off his own ear

"You're crazy and no one likes you." I don't know how to respond. I am ten and have never heard such hurtful words before. She smirks as I walk away in tears, silent in my own disbelief. At dinner that night, my mother says she is jealous of me because I am such a smart, kind girl. Now I am confused. Am I an outcast that is hated by all, or the poster child for perfection?

She is insecure
Envy green with jealousy
But she still hurts me

"Wow. It's really sad that you have to tattle to the principal instead of handling things yourself." I don't know how to respond. I am fourteen and am now embarrassed for asking my mom to talk to the school, and to make sure I didn't share any classes with my bully. I delete the post from my Facebook wall and lock myself in my room. At dinner that night, my mother says I am mature for contacting the school rather than fighting with my attacker. But I am confused. How can I stand up for myself if other people are solving my problems for me?

I cannot escape
Her words make me feel alone
What did I do wrong?

"Guess who." I know exactly how to respond. I am seventeen and I have had enough. My bully moved away two years ago; I thought she had moved on. Apparently, distance is not a problem for her. One sentence is all she will get from me: "I feel bad for you." The phone company has her number minutes later and I am proud of myself. At dinner that night, I don't tell my mother anything, because there's nothing to tell. There is no more confusion; I know that she is not the only one of her kind, but I also know that I am strong enough to handle anyone whose insecurites knock them down a few levels in the realm of maturity. I only wish the clarity had come sooner.

To my old neighbor:
Thank you for tormenting me.
You have made me strong.

I know it sounds annoying,
and I know I keep droning on,

but I can't stop complaining...
And it's really hard to move along.

Do you know what it's like,
to live everyday...and wish you could be somebody else? Other than yourself?

I sometimes hate who I am.
All I can think about is being her.

I think I ought to be checked,
I seriously have a disorder.

"Stop! I'LL HAVE NO MORE! Stop with the obsessions! I don't wish to do this anymore!"

Do you know what it feels like to compare yourself to others...every second, of everyday?

My existence is based off of insecurites beyond belief
and wanting beyond my reach.

I wish I could stop, but no matter how many times I tell myself to...I can't.

This life of greedy desire has only just begun....

The walls of your childhood home
used to hold their breath when you got upset.
I would pretend I didn't notice the holes
in the closet door and you would pretend
they didn't mirror the holes in your chest.
You never told me about your father, but
when you were drunk you'd mention your old man
and I could see all those
miles of running in your eyes.
I saw a picture in your mom's living room
of a man with the same jawline as you.
Always clenched,
always tense,
always ready to leave at a moments notice.
You said I made you softer.
I didn't know if that was a compliment
with the amount of venom you spat it out with.
You felt you were above vulnerability
but I remember
walking to your house in the rain
to shoo away your insecurites.
The door was unlocked
but you never really let me inside.
You didn't speak to me
for three days after it burned down.
When you finally did show up
at my doorstep you said
you were ready to come home.
I was ready to keep you warm in the winter
but I had forgotten
about your fists in the drywall
and the way you slammed doors
until the front window shattered.

I ain't got no signal,
              to tell your boys that

your shallow, shallow graved

beyond that your silent and I
                    throw gravel of silent
words over your face.

what that's all your worth.

I ain't got no signal to #hashtag
            you been died
                      after I shot you full

of body shots of verbal body shocks..



I never got your followers on my phone cos
            flakiness doesn't get followed but
                                 just shallow graved.

I poured water over you, cos a cap isn't worth
   finishing you off,

                     na my words collateral damage

on your form your slumped
                    blooded but no blood falling.

You need to realise you haven't got a shoot off,
            and your riddled with insecurities that
    

                  you and yours will have to either
   be buried in shallow graves or respect my
                                                            word around town.

The makeup feels too heavy,
The lipstick- too unnatural
And the fendi scent sticks to my skin.
My mascara runs, as I rub my eyes.
Darkness covers the city,
A sigh of relief, then a deep inhale of life.
My head begins to know a faintness-
Stifle the loneliness,
Muffle the empty parts, fill it with something.
these thin ribbed tights, too easily torn
the night of many moments begins
and a night of helpless, wishful thinking sinks in
insecurites-itching and itching at my skin.
The Bass, the Boom.
I walk alone through the sea of people.
the never ending lull of the beat-the- pulse.
Lids drowsy, the pockets of confusion and lights
maybe for just a second, this moment will take me higher
She’s next to me, her own ecstacy,
The energy kicks and pulls,
I see the blood in her mouth, too much anxiety
But she looks so happy.
I have to leave, leave these confusing lights.
I hate this part,
I begin to think of you.

--amelia rose

i guess that after the rainfall
of september
i reached through october
to clear it all away, blue skies
and lies fading from my tongue
and yet, all through november
the headache persisted
and i listed the failure to forget
among my insecurites
left there to dangle from my fingers
and as i pressed my hand into your waist
i could feel them bleeding
bit by bit
into the fabric of your jacket
and i feel better now
and the headache?
well, suffice to say
that in december, i noticed
while kissing you
that you tasted faintly
of ibuprofen