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Claire Sep 2014
Just another typical Friday.
No money for medicine.
No money for food.
Destroyed by my own self worth.
Feeling ugly.
Disgusting.
For people I pass anywhere I feel bad they have to see me.
My boyfriend tries to make me feel better.
He's a sweetheart but I know how the world looks at me.
I'm not desired or wanted.
I'm so ugly that if I was the last woman on earth the population would die.
Those girls in magazines, on social media, and in the limelight are now the norm.
Girls who are real are being criticized for weight, style, and looks.
If a woman's self worth is now determined by looks,
I feel bad for societies future.
Just remember, the uglier you feel, someone else feels the same way.
Well....I hope so.
L Marie May 2014
Love is tender, love is kind;
Love is splendid and divine;
Love is raw yet very sweet
Save it’s with a dead beat.

You’re not from fairytales—
No, you set your own sails.
While I work to pay the bills,
That is just how cupid kills.

I’m madly in love, I swear
Caught up in this love affair—
I don’t care if it’s no good for me
Just one will make it work, you’ll see.

You make my heart go crazy,
So who cares if you’re lazy?
We’ll prove the world wrong, I bet;
On that I have my heart set.

Love is hopeless, love is blind;
Love makes victims lose their mind;
Love wins, to one’s defeat
When it’s with a dead beat.
Taylor May 2014
S.
dear S.

I hate you. I really, really hate you. Every time I see you, I want to break all the bones you have and light your paper flesh on fire. I want to shatter your dreams like you shattered my happiness. I want to take away anything you have ever loved and will ever love, because you took away the only person who ever had my heart. You cracked three ribs ripping him out of my chest, and it seems you bruised my lungs as well. I am left with broken-glass memories, puncture wounds from snapped bones, and scars beneath my skin. So *******. ******* for being the springtime girl he always deserved. ******* for being the lamb he always wanted to protect. ******* and your big blue doe eyes and your fluffy blond hair. ******* for being the innocent little ***** he always deserved. ******* for being my complete opposite. For being a daisy while I'm just a thorn. For not having devious, hazel, almond-shaped eyes and long, wild brown hair and pale, fragile skin. ******* for offering him something I never could.

******* for pretending to be a friend when all you wanted was to steal the only person who ever made me feel.

And I especially hate you for making me into an angry, bitter harpy. Because I was never a violent person. Never this vicious. But you've shown me a jealous, furious side of myself that I never knew existed.

Someday, I hope some pretty girl who is nothing like you rips him out of your chest and breaks everything you try to hang on with. I hope she flaunts him in front of your face and leaves you with destruction and ghosts of things you didn't know you could miss so much. Then, you'll be just like me.

Another broken, beautiful thing, dead at his feet.
I was hoping writing this would help me get the pain out. My hate is a wound. This letter is the infection running out.

— The End —