the potential that people
see in me
is the potential
I’ll never be,
like golden rotten teeth,
society setting the bar
with dominating voices
for higher purposes
and the television
had me
chasing city dreams
on the outside,
they want me to be
all skyscrapers,
and charismatic
but on the inside,
I feel like a conflagration
of condemned buildings
collapsing to the streets
they given me
the grass
and they given me
the graves
but none of it matters
because it’s what
I decide to plant
in the ground

the people I once adored
are the people I no longer
want to be surrounded
by anymore

half the world is trying
to sell you shit
you don’t need
and the other half
is just disinterested,
yet, they feel compelled
to preach about their
new found discoveries
with the best intentions
like blue herons
swimming upstream,
again the current  

I refuse to acknowledge
the aggregation of judgment
from the principals of
prosperity, honesty and integrity
and be measured by levels of
excellence and quality
as I lower my expectations
with beer cans that
lounge like lizards
aloft my bulbous beer-belly
like buoys in the ocean,
encrusted with a layer
of mustard stained
tattered torn t-shirts,
dust on my boots,
mud on my jeans,
hair messy and knotted
absentminded to the
disease ridden impurities
and set forth into the night
with delicacy
to look up at the stars
shining so bright
and enjoy myself
because when you have
no home to live in or
roof over your head
it’s kind of hard,
not to

we are all animals,
dull creatures in the
kingdom of fire,
preoccupied with perfection
and dizzy with the
unnecessary difficulties
that standardized civilization
has bestowed upon us

humanity is the worst thing
to happen to humanity
Kat Apr 14
The standards and thoughts I have for myself are really high
They aren't your average,
    I have to get straight A's
    I have to (insert sports goal).

My thoughts and standards for myself at more like
    It's not enough to get a 98%, you worthless piece of shit,
    If you want to actually mean something you need to get a 105%
    at least.
    Gross Kat, you spent 2 month's working on this one piano piece
    you're pathetic.
    Kat, you're so lame, Abigail is using the same books as you.
    You have to get better or drawing or whatever that piece of crap is.
    Your last poem only got 50 views, that means you're a bad poet.
    No matter how hard you work you will never achieve 1k views
    You'll never achieve anything worth putting on the homepage.
    You got a 36/40 on the last English project that is terrible.
    You're awful at the piano, you've been doing it for 5 years. You
    aren't getting anywhere, you should just stop now so that you don't
    embarrass yourself even more.

My standards for myself are probably not healthy because of the way I put myself down.
I think I'm worthless, useless, lame, crappy, mean, obnoxious, desperate, stupid and so many more.

My grades are A's but they're not enough,
They aren't 100%.
No matter what my mother tells me,
I know that she isn't proud.
No matter what she says,
I don't always believe she loves me.

These are just the standards for myself,
These are just the things I hate about me.
There are people who have higher standards than me.
But sometimes, I really hate myself.
Abigail - a cousin that is 6 years younger than me.
These are my honest thoughts about myself, they aren't important to anyone just wanted to share and see if anyone else thinks that they're worse than a piece of trash.
She Writes Apr 4
She will go out tonight
With hair higher than her standards
And heels higher than her self esteem
Looking for love
In all the wrong places
At some point explanations run thin,
-and the truth reveals itself.
Emily Mar 12
People tell you to be
That girl

But what do they mean?
The bleach blonde babes
Or the brunette bookworms
With fair skin and "natural" beauty
Intelligent, but not smarter than their man
Independent, but they'll come running
Passionate and compassionate at once
The mental capacity and ability to be
That girl

But, the people who want these traits
Still want a stick figure
And someone who's "thick" with two "c's"
Which, for the record
Is the same letter as the cup size
That is desirable if you want to be
That girl

But, it seems like they're looking for a Barbie
Not a person
They want a plastered on smile
Without the emotions that are underneath
And the perfect body
Carved out of plastic
Just be careful not to get implants
Because your impossible proportions
Must be natural if you want to be
That girl

I've witnessed some things
That you wouldn't
So, excuse me if I don't
Wear my heart on my sleeve
If I can't force a smile
To fix someone else
When I'm struggling with shit
Going on with myself
Because, last I checked
I was a human being
Not a perfect specimen
Or the next Sophia
Which brings up the fact
That at the end of the day
No matter what we say
If a machine
Can replace me
Then why bother to be
That girl?
First piece of slam poetry for creative writing.
You ask if I’m depressed.
I’ll have to say, it’s true.
If you wouldn’t mind,
Tell me, why aren’t you?

Aren’t we all depressed?
Or do zombies roam around?
Do you see through colored glasses
All the bodies on the ground?

I’m certainly depressed.
If you aren’t, you might be slow.
The world burns around us,
As they’ll all burn below.

I’m naturally depressed;
I have great pity for our kind.
If you call yourself content,
I assume you must be blind.

I’m incredibly depressed.
The standards are so high!
I can’t keep up with social trends;
They make me want to cry.

Of course I am depressed.
If you’re not, then you’re insane!
Life is so demanding,
And existence equals pain.

So yeah, I am depressed.
Doesn’t that make sense?
This world is like hell,
But slightly less intense.

I’ve said that I’m depressed,
And I’ll stand by what I said.
Society is torturous;
I’d much rather be dead.
vanessa ann Jan 22
I’ve never quite understood
Those who judge beauty
On a checklist
Whose boxes are drawn
By the pens of society

Because what is beauty,
if not in the eye of the beholder?
And what is beauty,
if not abstract
and utterly idiosyncratic?
- i’ve always preferred the crinkles in your eyes to the folds in one’s eyes, anyway
Why do I equate being liked
With being attractive

Constantly thinking showing my body
Will make you want me

I hate my body
But I think I should show it to you

Is it society telling me to
Or am I just fucked up?

I am not sure
I don't know

Whenever I want attention
My clothes slowly start to dwindle

When I want affection
My makeup starts to thicken

Maybe I turn into the woman I wish I was
Maybe I turn into the woman I'm told to be
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