Pink roses stained with the red of my blood lye on the ground in front of me and I wonder how you took something so beautiful and used it so selfishly to destroy and bludgeon me until my flesh was tattooed with purples blacks and blues and I continue to beat myself up for not seeing it coming because I knew your soft gentle smile hid ulterior motives so I force myself to pluck every beautiful intricate petal from the rose seeping with blood until I have forgotten how badly you've hurt me

YOU STUCK THORNS IN MY HEART AND SPEARS THROUGH MY HEAD AND YOU STILL HAD THE NERVE TO STOMP ON MY FEET AND ACT LIKE YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WAS IN PAIN WHILE I STOOD HERE GASPING FOR AIR AND BLEEDING RIVERS THROUGH MY CHEST

You say that me shutting you out is selfish
but lets talk about being selfish

Is it not selfish of you
to constantly demand me to
open up to you when I don't
want to talk about it?

Is it not selfish of you
to ask me to change my ways
just so that you don't have to
deal with my problems

Is it not selfish of you
to keep me here in misery
while I'm suffering and you
won't let me go

Is it not selfish of you
to ignore my problems
as if they were not important
and you don't care

So please don't call me selfish,
when in reality I should be calling you selfish

Sometimes it isn't what you say that hurts, it's what you don't say. You never ask how I am, you never bother to question why my flushed red cheeks have faded to dull purply undertones, and you never cared enough or tried hard enough to help support me in regaining consciousness as my life around me blurs and slurs into a transparent orb of blacks and blues, and i just need you to know that I need someone but you never even asked me if I did to begin with

large, and in charge as I'd like to put it.
chunky, pudgy, fat, plump
however you'd like to say it, however
it is none of your **** business.

I am not a number on a scale
or a mile that I haven't run
I am not the size of my waist
or the "excuses" that have lead me to "let myself go"

But I, am human.
Say what you will
but I love myself.
blonde hair, blue eyes
a sense of humor that can't me measured with something so feeble as  measuring tape.
A love of life that will not be put to rest just because I may need to take a rest every so often.

How do you measure happiness?
not on a scale
or with inches
pounds or calories that seem to sneak up on you in the middle of the night and make your pants a bit too snug

we judge people for judging people because judging people is wrong
we blame society for our corrupt nature,
but we are society.

You always tell me the name of your favorite book
Yet the next month you tell me of the one you've read that you like one hundred times better
You've told me your favorite color
But once your eyes have rested upon a new one,
Your favorite color alters to the one you find more appealing
You always listen to your favorite song
But by now you've played on repeat at least hundreds of different "favorite" songs of yours
This is why I'm scared when you call me your favorite
And I constantly fear that when someone better crosses your path
I will be tossed over your shoulder like a piece of trash
And forgotten for eternity

i find myself
starting out waiting room
windows,
my eyes follow the footsteps
of the strangers below
as i dream about below apart
of their everyday monotony,
because what may be a
dully, normal, tasteless
indifferent thursday to them
would be an adventure
to me