Never STOP yourself to WONDER how BEAUTIFUL you're ,, Jealousy will cease you to RUN after more SUPERIOR than you.. Your beauty will not stop you, but your PRIDE on your beauty will LOCK your MOVE ..
OPEN your HEART every time you open your EYES.. Make your soul LIVELY and as PLAYFUL as butterfly Who spends their whole LIFE , flying across AESTIVATIONS ,, Of singly coloured PETALS.... Holding the band of RAINBOW on their BACK...
If they stop , to CHERISH their beauty It'll disturb the law.. UNAWARE of their BREATHTAKING beauty they're happy & BUSY..
So, if you're arrived for a JOURNEY Never make SONGS of your MISERIES Make your PAIN , a mole of CHEEK Not an EXCUSE to hide your FACE Never let your SHORTCOMINGS be the reason to RUN away from LIFE...
They call crawling caterpillars UGLY But wishes to get KISSED from butterflies They're nagging , criticizing judgemental Can only PRAISE the Beauty... Nobody is INTERESTED in anyone's journey So BUSY to see transformation But Ready to Compare & to make PERCEPTION ......
"Don't let the noise of other people's opinion drown out your own inner voice" ~ S.J.
We've all imagined Wedding dresses and vails growing up losing our pig-tails and overalls trading them in for beach waves and crop tops only for the person in our Reflection to turn into a complete s t r a n g e r
staring blank faced at a girl you can't recognize anymore drawing imaginary lines on our bodies with our eyes cutting away the imperfections with our hands shaped as scissors,
wishing we could look like the models in the magazines or the actresses on the tv screens But, society tells us we can Never be Skinny enough Never be Pretty enough That our features will NEVER be Good e n o u g h
Because the girl in the mirror who has lost all hope can Never amount to what we have been taught from the time we could walk and talk what beautiful is;
We went from carefree children to teens who are depressed and anxious all the time most of us addicted to Nicotine and Alcohol our parents tell us to smile and quit with the attitudes but behind closed doors we criticize ourselves enough
The little girl in her pigtails playing with everyone on the playground so innocent so pure get labeled as a racist in the 6th grade because her skin is white
By the time she enters high school she knows better than to state an opinion, the teachers know Best, never stand up to a man, he's superior to you, even when behind the closed doors he touches you when you say STOP but you know better than to say something cause you had to have wanted it, take it as a compliment, it just means you're pretty
if you say anything you'll be labeled as a W h o r e if you keep quiet it's an invitation for M o r e
people asking "why do you flinch at a simple touch?" how do you explain years of torment to a complete s t r a n g e r, you don't, you smile and act dumb
pretty is a vocabulary word to describe anyone but the girl that is seen in the mirror because she is Not Good e n o u g h and she knows that
she has lost friends cause she can't trust them
she changes her style monthly
trying sooo hard just to be accepted she doesn't remember the little girl in pigtails, she doesn't remember what a real smile looks like, the pain behind her eyes c l o u d s her reality the voice in her head telling her "you're eating too much" "you're an idiot" "you'll never amount to anything" and she s l o w l y fades away til there is nothing left to put back together cause her mind and heart are s c a t t e r e d aimlessly shes numb and she thinks, this is what happiness feels like no more pain no more criticizing No, more pretending to be okay
Poetry Criticizes life Doesn't condemn Abusing God If you condemn Criticize life Bring forth realities Eye openers Adversities, perversities Incongruities, atrocities Maleficence, imprudence Whatever prickles inner self Suggest solutions If you can Don't condemn life You condemn God In doing so
“It’s becoming tougher to love you every time you hurt me. It’s becoming tougher to trust you every time you betray me. It’s becoming tougher to be vulnerable every time you exploit me. It’s becoming tougher to lend you my heart when it feels like an open wound in your hand. You taunt me every opportunity you find, brag about my flaws occasionally, criticize and act cold at times. I am tired of visiting the restroom as though it is my sanctuary during occasions, shedding tears and walk out numbing my heart. We ought to be encouraging, loving and supporting one another and not pushing the other down to rise. But the heartaches are becoming often and old wounds are being reopened. It’s becoming tiring to experience it over and over again. I guess for it to not hurt anymore, it shouldn’t matter anymore.”