When she became the prom queen,
She was the prettiest thing they’d ever seen.
Soft gold curls spill over her back,
Bright green eyes, no sign of decay inside.
A spotlight shines down enhancing her cream-colored gown.
She beams as she accepts the crown.
She kneels down and throws up blood.
Her head comes up in a white marble tiled bathroom,
Starting to stench.
Staring deep into the reflection in her mother’s mirror,
Slowly withering away.
Pills spill around the room
Sitting by the window
She stares into the sun.
Waiting for a crimson bouquet,
And a plastic tiara
She powders her face,
Peachy pink cheeks on pale white skin.
She colors her lips and paints on a smile
Slips on a dress that flows to the floor.
They call out her name,
Lost in a daze she walks out on stage,
Stands all alone.
And when they crowned me the prom queen
I was the ugliest girl I’d ever seen.
-Inside on the Other side
By Sofia Delicari
Pay no mind to the ones
Who sit in their offices
And make money
From campaigns built on insecurity
And unattainable standards
Pity them instead
For through their corporate lenses
They see only green
When in fact
There is an entire rainbow
In a world
Filled with promises
Of unattainable beauty
The best rebellion
Is to love yourself
if you have scars on your body, stretch marks on your sides,
i will make sure you know that i love you for them.
because, they are a part of you, and anything that has anything to do
with you infatuates me.
your freckles make you so much better. don't hate yourself for them.
dont think that just because i don't have them means that i don't want them. they've always interested me, so they just make me more interested in you.
every single part of you infatuates me, interests me, makes me fall even more in love with you.
even your imperfections.
this was just kinda voicing my opinions about how society makes beauty standards so high and if you have one flaw, you're deemed ****. i just feel that people need to understand that nobody's perfect, as hannah montana once said, and we need to accept all people. imperfections and all.
We've got a red white and blue bloodlust
For the drips
from the slits
in the wrist
Of Ms. Statue of Liberty
Covered in capitalist pigs blood
camouflaged as corn syrup
whispering bitter somethings
to the diabetic nation
that broke her sweet-heart
They'll give her something
to fill her wounds
And add insult to
in flashes of light
She’ll overcome us
in her apotheosis
back around harder
When she finally comes for us
— The End —