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#youarebeautiful
beauty is said to be on the exterior but i wonder why many miss the beauty in the interior- i sit staring at myself looking at the mirror wondering if i'm considered any "prettier" in the end, it's all on me to understand that beauty lies underneath.
0
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 3:08 PM UTC
hidden beauty
So many words To describe beauty Many of them Said with cruelty Subjecting innocence To unreal goals Said to gain Unrelenting control Over youthful minds So undeveloped Wrapped in delusion They are enveloped
0
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 6:04 PM UTC
Pandora
She sits there With flaws on her body She sits there Hair on her legs making a little garden of roses She sits there Volcanoes on her face Looking like they are about to erupt Yet she manages to maintain balance and equality inside Well sometimes She sits there Carelessly Yet still with care for the world and everyone, everything, in it She sits there Still With a tornado spinning the thoughts in her head Making her deal with it because clicking ruby red heals doesn't make the problems go away She sits there Clutching the cross around her neck Mumbling prayers A cloud releasing small raindrops She sits there Being an ally, A friend, The person that listens when no one else does, She waits for you to tie your shoe while everyone else walks away. But she is also the one left behind on the sidewalk She still sits there Knowing how others treat her But not letting that reflect negatively on how she treats others She sits there And look at that, With a smile on her face, She continues to grow, Nothing prohibits her from moving forward, She is unstoppable, She is beautiful, She is grace, She is laughter, She is sunshine, She is light, The light that awakens the dark, The light that makes the moon shine, She is everything and more. She sits there Being radiant Being herself She sits there Knowing who she wants to be and what it takes to get there She sits there Patiently She sits there Being me I am Sitting there
0
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
She Sits There
Sometimes I think of how hard the floor must be to stand so many footsteps I met tourists who forgot that we made homes here They kept stomping, to claim space for themselves on our floor We slid on your blood to a place where your body isn’t remembered Bright red, like you held your breath In dance, we are taught to avoid anticipation Make each motion independent A surprise to the audience Nobody stared at your chest till your shirt was cut open I never get reception in the tunnel How long till someone picked you up? I can picture the damage to your eardrums The deafening screech of metal pulled along by electricity The burns with fade but parts of you are still laid out on the tracks The tourists tried to tell me that it was “probably just drugs” I tried to tell them that we are a community That we cannot reduce your life to a probably, or even a maybe, Cannot pretend to know your body on a stretcher It sounded a lot like crying to me I told a counselor I wanted to send you flowers Know which hospital they took you to She said something silly about a kind heart, but they weren’t for you Just wanted to know that you lived, Didn’t think they’d let me send flowers to a morgue I’ve been to a morgue: they let me see a body Can’t remember his face Can’t remember your’s, either But I see your blood and ripped shirt and the head restraint I see your hand reaching up and hear my own prayers that you’ll fall asleep soon My friend will not remember the story, did not observe your body as a phantom Cannot see your body on the tracks and forgot I told him it was there I understand Sometimes I forget the order of operations, too I step over the line and somebody reminds me that the train arrives first The doors open and a voice I don’t recognize gives me permission I apologize for taking up space And then suddenly, I’m someone else I’m hoping that you woke up in the hospital bed and were someone else
0
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 9:33 PM UTC
Flowers for the Man Who Stepped in Front of the Metro
Sometimes I think of how hard the floor must be to stand so many footsteps I met tourists who forgot that we made homes here They kept stomping, to claim space for themselves on our floor We slid on your blood to a place where your body isn’t remembered Bright red, like you held your breath In dance, we are taught to avoid anticipation Make each motion independent A surprise to the audience Nobody stared at your chest till your shirt was cut open I never get reception in the tunnel How long till someone picked you up? I can picture the damage to your eardrums The deafening screech of metal pulled along by electricity The burns with fade but parts of you are still laid out on the tracks The tourists tried to tell me that it was “probably just drugs” I tried to tell them that we are a community That we cannot reduce your life to a probably, or even a maybe, Cannot pretend to know your body on a stretcher It sounded a lot like crying to me I told a counselor I wanted to send you flowers Know which hospital they took you to She said something silly about a kind heart, but they weren’t for you Just wanted to know that you lived, Didn’t think they’d let me send flowers to a morgue I’ve been to a morgue: they let me see a body Can’t remember his face Can’t remember your’s, either But I see your blood and ripped shirt and the head restraint I see your hand reaching up and hear my own prayers that you’ll fall asleep soon My friend will not remember the story, did not observe your body as a phantom Cannot see your body on the tracks and forgot I told him it was there I understand Sometimes I forget the order of operations, too I step over the line and somebody reminds me that the train arrives first The doors open and a voice I don’t recognize gives me permission I apologize for taking up space And then suddenly, I’m someone else I’m hoping that you woke up in the hospital bed and were someone else
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38
She is reminded she isn't good enough everyday. "You can't do by yourself, you need a man," they say. No one tells her she is beautiful just the way she is. No one tells her that she belongs to herself, she is not 'his'. She is taught to hate her body by them. She is told how unworthy she is by them. No one tells her about the fierce fire burning in her heart. That she too could be someone's glowing light in the dark. No, she is only told how she needs to change. She is overlooked and underappreciated at every stage. So she just writes her story down. As a reminder of who she was before she let her real self drown.
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Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 4:50 AM UTC
no one tells her.
You Are the author of the book of your life, You Can erase words, delete chapters, write new endings. You Are writing your own computer software, and You Can create whatever programs you wish. You Are not restricted by what others say, and You Will never be happier than when you are being yourself. You Have more power than you think you do. Own it.*
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Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 10:24 PM UTC
Re: Inspiration
it all started at one dinner "all of that is for you?" "how can you eat so much?" "are you sure you want all of that?" was it wrong for me to eat what i wanted to? i remember looking at my plate i left it untouched the rest of the dinner i thought it would never happen again but again i was attacked with words "girls dont stay skinny forever you know" "you are going to get fat, stop eating" "do you want to be fat?" i was confused had i done something wrong? where was all this coming from? what do you want me to do? the tv made it worse "look at how skinny she is" "no wonder she has a husband" "her child will be just as beautiful as her" i curled into a ball ashamed of myself why were you telling me this? why were you being so mean? how do i fix things between us? i had stopped eating the emptiness in my stomach no longer hurt water was my only meal each day my sleepless nights were filled with crying "dont eat that" "not that either, you have to stay skinny" "you can go with one less meal" my friends didnt know they knew i didnt eat alot but he knew right away he knew something was wrong "hey do you want this slice?" the pizza was put in front of me one look at it and i was crying "are you okay? whats wrong?" i pushed the slice away and left he was silent at first he knew to give me my space but you didnt no you were still there beside me "look what you did fat girl" "you know skinny girls dont act stupid" "what a fat freak" when i finally told him what was wrong he smiled "those are lies and you know it" "you are so beautiful" "you are stronger than those words" and since then the words didnt hurt as much when you said them sure you kept saying it and you still do today but i know that i am beautiful my best friend had said so and he never lies you cant hurt me anymore
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:35 PM UTC
to the voice in my head
it all started at one dinner "all of that is for you?" "how can you eat so much?" "are you sure you want all of that?" was it wrong for me to eat what i wanted to? i remember looking at my plate i left it untouched the rest of the dinner i thought it would never happen again but again i was attacked with words "girls dont stay skinny forever you know" "you are going to get fat, stop eating" "do you want to be fat?" i was confused had i done something wrong? where was all this coming from? what do you want me to do? the tv made it worse "look at how skinny she is" "no wonder she has a husband" "her child will be just as beautiful as her" i curled into a ball ashamed of myself why were you telling me this? why were you being so mean? how do i fix things between us? i had stopped eating the emptiness in my stomach no longer hurt water was my only meal each day my sleepless nights were filled with crying "dont eat that" "not that either, you have to stay skinny" "you can go with one less meal" my friends didnt know they knew i didnt eat alot but he knew right away he knew something was wrong "hey do you want this slice?" the pizza was put in front of me one look at it and i was crying "are you okay? whats wrong?" i pushed the slice away and left he was silent at first he knew to give me my space but you didnt no you were still there beside me "look what you did fat girl" "you know skinny girls dont act stupid" "what a fat freak" when i finally told him what was wrong he smiled "those are lies and you know it" "you are so beautiful" "you are stronger than those words" and since then the words didnt hurt as much when you said them sure you kept saying it and you still do today but i know that i am beautiful my best friend had said so and he never lies you cant hurt me anymore
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56
You say you are ugly because you only ever see yourself in the mirror that tells you what to think You don't see you when I make you laugh when your eyes come alive with joy You don't see you when your crush texts you and you fail to hide your smile You don't see you when your dad comes home at the end of the day and says he loves you wrapping you in his arms you are so filled with glee You don't see you when you make us so happy you cannot help but beam like the sun the mirror is not a person it has no face or voice it cannot tell you anything it will never say you are beautiful but we have faces and we have voices and we can say you are
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
We see You
You, yes you. The one with the broken smile. No, look up, your beautiful for who you are. I don't care how you look, or where you came from, You Are Beautiful. Despite what others may say, You Are Beautiful. Even though you may feel blue, You Are Beautiful. Just listen to me through the pain. You Are Beautiful. Your gender, race, past, do not have any hold on you anymore because, You Are Beautiful. I know the voices may say something else but, You Are Beautiful. I know you may roll your eyes but truly I know, You Are Beautiful. You may look in the mirror and see a disgusting mess, but your not, You Are Beautiful You may feel like a mess, but look up, You Are Beautiful. Through the loss, through the pain, through the ups and downs, You Are Beautiful. You have done more than you think, don't hang your head, You Are Beautiful. Despite the mistakes you may have made, or the cuts on your wrist, You Are Beautiful. You may feel anger, sadness, pain, lost, hopeless, but you should feel like, You Are Beautiful. There's no disguising the fact, that, You Are Beautiful.
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May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 12:29 PM UTC
You Are Beautiful.
you are beautiful beyond compare you are beautiful beyond flesh and blood you are beautiful beyond words you are beautiful in your own way on your own terms you are beautiful no matter what they say don't let them ruin you Sweetheart, I promise you someday someone somewhere is going to see the kind, strong, bold, beautiful soul, you are love more and more every day for it. -A
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Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
Beautiful
You tell me that I am beautiful. I want so much to believe your words. But when I look in the mirror, what I see is not beautiful. I dismiss your words even though it hurts me. There is a voice that tells me the exact opposite. Most of the time the voice wins because it is louder. It is so loud it hurts my ears and I cannot think. You are the one I want to believe... But I am unable too.
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Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
i am beautiful
i hope every door that closes on you another one opens, another opportunity shows, another chance, something to hold on, something better that won't ever close. i hope the white walls and ceilings you see, are as clean as your intentions, those dirts are just imperfections, that makes up you you deserve everything you gave away, you deserve a love that shines everyday, and shows rainbows after the rain. you deserve the best. you don't have to be like them, you don't have to walk, talk or dress like them, be your own person, be the one who differs from everyone, that wants to be like any other person. most girls, are smart and strong and beautiful, so are you, the only thing that makes you ugly is the fact that you don't want to embrace you difference. you are beautiful, maybe not in the looks but what's important is in the soul.
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Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC
Embracing your difference
There is pressure in society That judges how your looks should be And when I hear a girl proclaim "I'm fat!" As though there was something wrong with that, Such thoughts, I tell you, just won't do When the opposite is clearly true Because with big girls there is more to love, And they won't break with a playful shove. And although I'm not one for body shaming, And don't wish to sound like I'm complaining, Thin girls simply lack the cellulite To keep somebody warm at night, Their bones protrude in awkward places And they have gaunt, unhealthy faces They regularly seem in a foul mood (Which is probably caused caused by lack of food), And you can't get anything to eat Without them scowling at the treat, That you, yourself, have chose to order, While they dine on salad and water, Until they scream "I've had enough! You have no idea how tough It is to keep this slender figure And stop myself from getting bigger!" As if it was somehow your fault That they won't eat sugar or salt, Or that they'll spend 3 hours at the gym As a compromise for staying thin. So while I'd love a girl however she looks (As long as we like similar books, And can talk for hours at a time, Or not at all and still be fine) There's very few (indeed, if any! Although their numbers may be many), Skinny girls I've ever met That a big one hasn't beaten yet! If you must lose weight I do implore You know it's yourself you do it for And while I must concede it doesn't matter, To most if you're thinner or fatter, No songwriter, I'll think you'll find Wrote a song about a small behind No artists brush strokes ever found Joy in painting girls that were not round And the best words found in poetry Are about big girls it's plain to see Like voluptuous, buxom, and well-rounded With thin girls how would they have sounded? Although I must- again- make haste to add That no truly self-respecting lad Would ever dream of judging you By how you look, not what you do, So if shedding pounds makes you feel great Then go ahead and lose some weight, But ignore what shallow fools may say, As they'll just keep judging anyway, Because the best people, you'll always find, Will love you for what's in your mind.
0
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
Big Girls Are Awesome (Skinny Ones Are Quite Nice Too)
There is pressure in society That judges how your looks should be And when I hear a girl proclaim "I'm fat!" As though there was something wrong with that, Such thoughts, I tell you, just won't do When the opposite is clearly true Because with big girls there is more to love, And they won't break with a playful shove. And although I'm not one for body shaming, And don't wish to sound like I'm complaining, Thin girls simply lack the cellulite To keep somebody warm at night, Their bones protrude in awkward places And they have gaunt, unhealthy faces They regularly seem in a foul mood (Which is probably caused caused by lack of food), And you can't get anything to eat Without them scowling at the treat, That you, yourself, have chose to order, While they dine on salad and water, Until they scream "I've had enough! You have no idea how tough It is to keep this slender figure And stop myself from getting bigger!" As if it was somehow your fault That they won't eat sugar or salt, Or that they'll spend 3 hours at the gym As a compromise for staying thin. So while I'd love a girl however she looks (As long as we like similar books, And can talk for hours at a time, Or not at all and still be fine) There's very few (indeed, if any! Although their numbers may be many), Skinny girls I've ever met That a big one hasn't beaten yet! If you must lose weight I do implore You know it's yourself you do it for And while I must concede it doesn't matter, To most if you're thinner or fatter, No songwriter, I'll think you'll find Wrote a song about a small behind No artists brush strokes ever found Joy in painting girls that were not round And the best words found in poetry Are about big girls it's plain to see Like voluptuous, buxom, and well-rounded With thin girls how would they have sounded? Although I must- again- make haste to add That no truly self-respecting lad Would ever dream of judging you By how you look, not what you do, So if shedding pounds makes you feel great Then go ahead and lose some weight, But ignore what shallow fools may say, As they'll just keep judging anyway, Because the best people, you'll always find, Will love you for what's in your mind.
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58
Look beyond what you see in the mirror There is no need to fear For I what I see here Matters more than what you see there Take a deep breath in And concentrate on what’s within Take a deep breath in And make sure to grin Because what I see here Is something beautiful.
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Self-Confidence
When you are told you are not pretty: Pretty is a six-letter word that can’t encompass your entire being in its arms. You were born to a mother who wore pain like trees wear their rings, as marks of fierce bravery and battle cries. You almost split her insides open coming out, wailing so hard the plaster cracked, but she grinned and bore it like a champion, even though the walls of her womb felt like one giant cigarette burn that no one cared enough to put out. You are Icarus incarnate, with a body stitched from wings, flying toward the sun every day no matter how low the storm clouds hover. Pretty is not a synonym for learning how to put together a body that fights itself every day with pocket knives, like assembling letters to form words that flame in the mouth. That’s called survival. Pretty is an ugly word. It leaves behind a bitter residue that apologies cannot erase. Pretty is just an excuse for playing darts with a woman’s confidence. When told you are not pretty, always remember how your body expanded to fit its widening cage, its blooming hips, how the growing pains were less like pain and more like cracking fault lines. How your body turned itself inside out and spilled over and over again. Getting emptied is not pretty. It is dark and wounding and it requires strength enough to move mountains. On your worst days do not look in the mirror and call yourself pretty. Call yourself trying, call yourself surviving, call yourself learning how to get through a day, a week, a month or year. Call yourself still learning. Pretty is just six letters for lipstick, false eyelashes, combs for hair that never gets tangled, not for women who earn a victory every day just managing to exist. When told you are not pretty, do not **** in your stomach. Pretty is a discriminatory word, but having a body that knows what it wants and gets what it wants is not a hate crime. It’s a healing hymn. Don’t forget how trees shake their last leaves in winter like they’re shedding skin from the old year. Shed pretty. Shed it now. Teach yourself to replace it with heart-wrenching, brilliant, clever, artistic, unique, understanding, fighting. Always living. When told you are not pretty, don’t fall in love with the ground. Get back up. This is not an apocalypse; this is not the end of the world. A six-letter word doesn’t have the power to burn down every building in site or freeze the entire world in epic proportions. Your body is not wreckage or refuse left over from a world on fire. Your body is just fine. Look in the mirror. Tell yourself, Pretty is not me. Pretty is an ugly concept. I am more.
0
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
Pretty
When you are told you are not pretty: Pretty is a six-letter word that can’t encompass your entire being in its arms. You were born to a mother who wore pain like trees wear their rings, as marks of fierce bravery and battle cries. You almost split her insides open coming out, wailing so hard the plaster cracked, but she grinned and bore it like a champion, even though the walls of her womb felt like one giant cigarette burn that no one cared enough to put out. You are Icarus incarnate, with a body stitched from wings, flying toward the sun every day no matter how low the storm clouds hover. Pretty is not a synonym for learning how to put together a body that fights itself every day with pocket knives, like assembling letters to form words that flame in the mouth. That’s called survival. Pretty is an ugly word. It leaves behind a bitter residue that apologies cannot erase. Pretty is just an excuse for playing darts with a woman’s confidence. When told you are not pretty, always remember how your body expanded to fit its widening cage, its blooming hips, how the growing pains were less like pain and more like cracking fault lines. How your body turned itself inside out and spilled over and over again. Getting emptied is not pretty. It is dark and wounding and it requires strength enough to move mountains. On your worst days do not look in the mirror and call yourself pretty. Call yourself trying, call yourself surviving, call yourself learning how to get through a day, a week, a month or year. Call yourself still learning. Pretty is just six letters for lipstick, false eyelashes, combs for hair that never gets tangled, not for women who earn a victory every day just managing to exist. When told you are not pretty, do not **** in your stomach. Pretty is a discriminatory word, but having a body that knows what it wants and gets what it wants is not a hate crime. It’s a healing hymn. Don’t forget how trees shake their last leaves in winter like they’re shedding skin from the old year. Shed pretty. Shed it now. Teach yourself to replace it with heart-wrenching, brilliant, clever, artistic, unique, understanding, fighting. Always living. When told you are not pretty, don’t fall in love with the ground. Get back up. This is not an apocalypse; this is not the end of the world. A six-letter word doesn’t have the power to burn down every building in site or freeze the entire world in epic proportions. Your body is not wreckage or refuse left over from a world on fire. Your body is just fine. Look in the mirror. Tell yourself, Pretty is not me. Pretty is an ugly concept. I am more.
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9
no one really gets it.. can you really expect it?? there's no real way, you can always have your way. and yet we always try pursuit of perfection til we die not a smudge nor misplaced hair no of course, cause somebody will see it there. could you put down your shroud and let someone see that you are proud of who you are, no matter stain nor scar cause living life on par is what most people are or are just trying to accomplish and some people wish they could have your face and are ****** with disgrace because they can't get their blush exact or keep their tan intact please tell me this isn't fact and i will prove you wrong each time i'm done with feeling undermined each time i go out without make up on because i want to feel beautiful, myself.. in my skin without your help.
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Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
stop
going to bed happy for the first time in a long time a smile on my face in bed with an empty space next to me going to be happy
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Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
i bid u goodnight
My hands are too small I can't catch all of your pain I wish I could save you from yourself But I am not strong enough To beat the darker parts of you And the lighter parts of you Are no match for your inner demons But God I wish I could take your pain And bear your burdens for you I promise you though You are a candle Candles flicker But they always flicker back to shining There's no sense in blowing out a candle Just because it is flickering It will be okay.
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
Ena
And the stars refuse to shine If you refuse to stay Right beside them, With all your beauty and light.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
You're beautiful
Long lost live. Love long lost. Why do we spend our lives wishing, wanting, yearning, to be skinnier, taller, prettier? We were put here for so much more; I'm not quite sure what, But why else do the pyramids exist and the Colosseum, and the 7 wonders of the world and love stories so beautiful your heart feels like it is melting. We are destined for more; more than we give ourselves credit for. Comparing yourself to those girls in your magazine. This is the root of all evil. I don't believe in manipulating an picture so it can make girls hate themselves by creating an impossible image of beauty. Go write a poem. Go take a walk. Go explore nature. Go create something other than your negative thoughts. Maybe then you will start to feel beautiful. Maybe then we can create something; the 8th wonder of the world. Long live love lost, live long love which is not lost.
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
GO