who is this?
who is she?
who are they?
i don't know this person,
i don't look like that do i?
my arms, my stomach,
my hair, my face, my thighs,
what is it all?
why don't i look okay for once?

it isn't fair,
not fair at all,
i'm fed up of trying to look pretty,
fed up of meeting standards,
my body is keeping my heart beating,
is capable of carrying and nursing a child,
my body is amazing and that'll never change,

even if my clothes are tight,
even if my face doesn't look like theirs,
even if i can't wear the same things,
even if my skin is darker than theirs,
even if i can't pull off the same hair cut they do,

i am me,
i am myself,
i am here to show what i am capable of,
and no-one, no matter how hard they try, will stop me,
i am beautiful,

we are all beautiful.

-lilac

5 why do they look at me like that…

4… do I want to eat this week…

3… life is pointless and there’s no reason to live…I’m worthless…

1No…sorry I meant…

2…ohh what’s that points at something on someone

1 why is mental health so popular…

Why can’t it just go away

If you learn to live life with sadness,
You'll never die with true happiness

Let’s play a game
It hisses in my head
What will you believe today?

Are you depressed?
Or
Does life just really ****?
Flip a coin.

Do you need to change your meds?
Or
Is this what normal people feel like?
Flip a coin.

Are you still hurting?
Or
Are you just a drama queen?
Flip a coin.

Do you deserve a little binge?
Or
Is your stomach getting bigger?
Flip a coin.

Are you sane?
Or
Are you falling from reality?
Flip a coin.

When i was young,
I would’ve have given my mother the world.
Every mothers day, i would paint
My very best picture,
And I would walk to my grandmother's garden
To pick the tallest Easter lilies
That had bloomed weeks before.
Her front yard boasted
the most beautiful flowers
That fill my memories.
But like the colorful bloom,
My mothers love disappeared with time.
And sloppy paintings and roughly cut stems
Would never be good enough for her.

a favor
in law
reaches its
nihilistic while
cows grain
these matters
that suppose
this arbitration
wasn't theirs
but this
trench would
hide the
horror of
waywardness with
their cultivation
in grazing
upon licorice

Soft is the wind ere the trees
And rough is my voice running through each
As are flowers in the month of June, so beautiful
And yet cursed by the coming fall
As after which, above the earth, all else will fall
Until the clouds and morning dew have meld in, above the heath
Ungrown as I am in the mind of you
But it would not be so, if you would see me through