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Hello, I'm not doing very well,
I think to myself.
I'd like to tell
You but my every apple, every cell,
Has been gutted and cored and you look so whole,
So pretty, such glow.
Hello? You're so nice on the eyes that
I never want you to know
The way I bleed through a shattered heart because these shards
Would poke holes
Through your sweet, sugar-glass wings,
Wings that could be delightfully clipped and pinned in a glass box
But I'd like to see you fly
Because it’d peal my dying, gutted mind from
All the empty apples inside
This holed up soul.
rgz Nov 19
Such pretentious pretense presumes a plethora of personal pejoratives,
please pay the predicament proper attention previous to persevering with proposed promises of placation.
***** purloined your parlance?
lilac Nov 10
her body painfully riddled with ink,
all the moments that made her heart sink,
stories and words that intertwined within,
look for the patches of free, untouched skin.

that needle brought hope, a fresh, new beginning,
to a past that had seemed to have no chance at winning,
i smile and i'm proud of her skin being covered,
its her uniform of pride, she made it out, unbothered.

Leah Oct 26
I’ve wanted pretty, soft, hands for as long as I can remember;
thin fingers,
long nails.
The kind that pair well with coffee mugs and bookstores.
The kind you don’t hesitate to kiss;
but mine are riddled with anxiety.
There are scars on my knuckles from walls  that didn’t deserve my anger
and I can’t seem to stop biting at my fingernails.
I will never be the pretty girl with soft hands and thin fingers.
I am the strong girl
who scales mountainsides
and presses my hips into the walls I once used to punish myself.
My hands haven’t been the same since I covered them in chalk and started gripping onto what has become a lifeline for me.
I will never be the pretty girl with soft hands and thin fingers.
I will be the strong one.
Evie G Oct 20
Sure, she was
Pretty as a doll.
Porcelain skin,
Everyone said so;
everyone knew so.
she was never beautiful.
Never having that smile that soars across your face, reaching the rising heights of your cheeks,
heat flowing through the cracks of your skin made from memories passed.
Encircling your eyes, forcing the green leaves to wither,
facing the tight chill of another winter.

Eyes awaken, olives on the branch
Skin turning fiery now… it’s laughter!
A shuddering of skin
juddering and jiggling
Cracks are forming where sapphire squeezes out and down the mountainside, leaving its trail.
Youth is wasted on the young?
As if youth is something to be owned.
Hey there! Its sap time :)
sadnspicy0 Oct 15
She was never enough,
and that's why she was crying,
lady "Nobody's Type",
whom I was glorifying.

In the kingdom of dreams
she will stay for too long.
She's the queen of white sheets,
the prettiest girl
                                                     in morgue...
There was a girl in my hometown who decided to do a rhinoplasty because she had a tiny **** on her nose.
She never woke up after that...
"Alive failure is better than a dead masterpiece"
Cross Boundry Oct 12
am i allowed...
honestly, i think not
she's up there with the perfects
singing in the heights
dancing with the stars
but still i'll look...
she - dodie
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