"breakouts" poems
Sometimes Life gets hard
Too difficult to handle
At which time
We must remember to be thankful
This morning, I am thankful
I am thankful for my alarm clock
Reminding me that time
Never slows down
I am thankful for my bed
Reminding me that there is always
Something to look forward to
I am thankful for my empty phone screen
Reminding me that it's okay
To not be needed for a night
I am thankful for the breakouts on my face
Reminding me that sometimes things get worse
And I am thankful for the tan lines on my back
Reminding me that things will also get better
I am thankful for the day ahead
Filled with struggle
And a high chance of failure
Reminding me that these days
Are the ones that build us up
Even though it feels as though
They are tearing us down
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
I'm trying to look at the mirror without judging what I see in my reflection.
I try to tell myself that despite the fact that my face is littered in acne and the scars from old breakouts, that my flaws only make me human.
I try to tell myself that despite the fact my hair strays in every direction that it really is a crown.
I try to tell myself that despite the fact I weigh more than I would like that Sierra DeMulder was right when she said "my body is the house I grew up in, how dare I try to burn it to the ground."
I wake up every morning look in the mirror and I try to tell myself that despite the fact that I hate what I see, mirrors are just glass and I am more than that.
I try to tell myself that despite the fact I am a mere one size away from being plus sized, the fact that my BMI says I'm overweight, the fact that the numbers on the scale are my worst enemy, that there are no numbers in the dictionary definition of worth.
I keep telling myself that I can change, that I will change despite the fact it seems like nothing will ever be different.
I try telling myself that tomorrow will be better despite the fact it almost never is. But I keep trying because eventually one of these tomorrows has to be better.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
do you feel anxious?
can you still eat without
having the thought
that maybe you'll
swell up and
can't get past door
or hearts?
wanting to be like
paper but
you never thought
that being paper
was fragile
and that people
could write all
over you.
what you needed
was thick skin
and a thick heart.
do you feel scared?
when you hear your
name, thinking
are they talking
about your scars?
your imperfections?
your breakouts and your
bruised skin.
can you look at someone
straight in the eye
without thinking
that they're staring
at that ugly mole
and aren't even
focusing on you,
so you look down
at their feet
but darling,
you should look
at them with pride
because your scars,
marks and pimples
are not an end
but they are
a journey,
a story
of what
you've gone
through.
do you feel stressed?
when compare your body
to a model or an idol
who has a tiny waist,
yet she's curvy,
do you measure your *******
your waist and looking
for solutions to looking
like your 'dream girl'
that you dream about,
the one who's
so confident
so beautiful
so perfect?
have you ever thought,
that maybe
your dream girl
was actually inside of you?
she came to birth with you
she opened her eyes with you
she said her first word with you,
she walked with you.
and she'll dream with you
oh she'd care for you,
look out for you,
crave for you
but most of all
she'll love you.
you are your dream girl.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
I love you.
When I say it, I want to laugh at myself
Because "how can someone love somebody they have never even met?"
"How can somebody love someone whose hands they have never held, whose scent they have never smelt, whose arms they have never been encompassed in?"
They say Skype doesn't count,
That video chatting doesn't mean you've really met them.
That talking on the phone doesn't mean that the butterflies you get in your stomach are real,
That the person you love is a mirage of pixels
and let's not forget the, "he could be a serial killer"
or "you don't really know who they are"
My personal favorite is "he's probably a forty year old *********
But I love you.
They say that "love isn't based off appearances," but even so, I know that your eyes are green somedays or blue the next,
you hate the way your hair flips in every direction
and falls into your face because you can't make out the words on the screen behind the curtain of brown-
I know that your left shoulder blade protrudes more than your right,
And that you get breakouts on your cheeks if you sleep too often.
Love is based off "personality."
I know that you're funny,
you love football,
you hate to see a woman cry,
that you're rude all the time, except to your grandmother
that you only joke around so much because you're afraid of being hurt,
you love pizza,
your dog is your pride and joy.
Why can you be in love with someone the same gender
or someone a hundred pounds heavier or lighter
Or someone ten years younger
Or someone with a disability?
Because you love for personality,
because love is blind.
But why is that when I love you for your personality,
I am the one who is blind?
You don't love your partner for the way they feel or how they smell or how much they weigh
You love them for the words they say to you.
You love them for how "I love you" slides off their tongue like molasses,
For how "you're beautiful" isn't just a compliment, but a promise.
You love them for the way they make you feel, not for the way they feel to you.
I love you because you know more about me than people who have known me my whole life,
Because you've made me feel more alive in the last three years than I've ever felt in my entire life,
That you, someone I've never met,
has stopped me from suicide
and kept me from burning or cutting
yet people in the same house as me haven't noticed that depression is even a problem.
When I say I love you, I want to laugh at myself,
Because we still live in a society where love is only real if you can hold it in your hands.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
.
Needles and tears jab
At my window, breakouts
Of sky rip through clouds
And mountains shout, drain
From beyond, dark snowmelt
Like cold wind on the ground,
Spatters of my heart shadows,
Loneliness here is warmly kept
By a window I refuse to know,
The sky is old, patching dread,
From my window are new tears
Attached to blur, smoky panes,
In the distance small white birds
Are sailing, stripping what is left.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
I love this. I want this more often. I am sitting outside in a house that isn't even mine. It smells of saltwater and cigarettes. The cat is purring by my feet as I dance and sing along with Breezy. She is smoking. I am drinking. We are both free, doing what we love and what kills us the most. I remember how it all started. Ella, my boyfriend and I drove to the house, so excited, so happy and cheerful. Breezy had set everything up. And as we poured overly priced Malibu in plastic shot glasses we thanked each other for the memories made this year. We talked about how weird it had been meeting each other; drunk, exactly the same as we were in that moment. We took one, two, three drinks of the coconut flavored venom, as we kept going, pouring another glass of that gasoline in my already burning throat. Music was playing. And it was a mess. Indie music, pop, screamo and reggaeton. Trying to take pictures in which our stomachs looked flat, our ***** perky and our butts round. It was hard. But we were too excited to care. We wanted to fit in, to show everyone that yes, we have friends. I remember stepping on the wet floor right as I took off my uncomfortable heels, and left it where the girls had left theirs: thrown around on the floor. We unzipped each other's dresses and started playing silly games. Eating from a stolen box of chocolates as we whispered secrets around an ugly tablecloth. Make up wipes covered in black and sparkles filled the trashcan up, as we complained about the breakouts of our skin and complimented each other just because. We felt stupid. We felt young. We were having so much fun all alone. In the middle of that stupid teenage chaos, I felt loved. And that is how we fell asleep. Me, in the middle of the bed hugging Ella and holding Xavier's hand. Covers and blankets up to our noses, whilst Breezy lied down at the bottom of the bed singing as she scrolled down instagram. That is the last thing I remember before waking up. And I am thankful for having woken up. Because in 2017 I didn't think I would make it. And that morning I just wished I could live long with those people, the people I love.
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC
i’ve always wondered what makes Destiny..
perhaps it is the dark shadows pressed into the sides of her face known as cheekbones.
the blotchiness of her skin.
that “cute little” dimple that runs down her chin.
the two very different shades between her face and neck that everyone points out.
“gotta be easy with the bleaching creams sis”..
sure because why not aspire to look like Lil’ Kim, right? *******
the way one side of her nose is slightly longer than the other.
the dents in her top lip.
the discoloration around her mouth from the breakouts of an annoying skin condition called eczema.
those ****** dark chocolate eyes.
maybe the stubborn eyebrows who refuse to claim each other as sisters, or even cousins for that matter.
the acne scars on her shoulders from too much sun.
her too wide of a “button nose”.
the bold jawline given to her by her daddy.
the shape of oversized freckled lips given to her by her momma.
the prominent collarbone given to her by Indian ancestors.
every feature (whether it be uneven, crooked, discolored, blotchy, too big or too small) is perfectly imperfect & molded by the hands of the Almighty.
after years and years of practicing patience and acceptance to love herself again, i’ve come to realize that this is what makes Destiny.
- d.berry
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 3:21 AM UTC
i lost 5 pounds, am i skinny enough yet?
i used that lipstick you told me to use, does it look good?
i bought those new clothes everyone wears, do i look cool enough?
i join the cheer team to fit in more, do they like me yet?
i had *** with that popular guy, am i breaching my adolescence
i started smoking *** am i a cool enough stoner yet?
i started wear a full-face of makeup, am i attractive enough yet?
i shrunk my waist 5 inches, am i more desired now?
i started skipping school, am i fitting in with the status quo?
i started sneaking out, am i risky enough?
i got my nose pierced , is it edgy enough?
i dyed my hair to the blonde white you have it. so we can match?
i keyed that girls car who's such a freak, is that more acceptable
i bullied that girl and she killed herself, wasn't she such a freak?
_____________________________________________________________
im in the hospital now i lost too much weight
i ended up failing school for so much
im in debt for all the clothes i bought
the popular guy ended up getting me pregnant
i got arrested for keying her car and threatening her
my hair ended up falling out from all the bleach
my organs are shutting down from all the weight loss
i ended up addicted to drugs
my face now breakouts from all the products i used
i ruined my parents marriage by sneaking out and lying
i joined the cheer team and ended up trying to fit in
im currently dying , do i fit in enough yet?
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 5:09 PM UTC
Lately, I’ve slipped into a rhythm that’s not so kind—
Unhealthy habits shaping my days,
From what I eat to how I move.
My skin speaks first, with breakouts on my face,
And in the quiet of morning,
My eyes puff up with stories they shouldn’t tell.
It’s as if my lungs whisper a warning,
A gentle plea to listen more closely.
I know my body’s language—I’ve walked this path before.
Yet sometimes, the heart longs for the comfort of old ways,
Even when they no longer serve us.
Still, life remains beautiful,
A silent teacher in every turn.
If only we knew how to read its signs,
To pause, reflect, and truly understand
What the moment is trying to say.
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 4:02 AM UTC
This body I inhabit
It's seen 19 years worth of wear and tear
Mostly tear
I tell myself that this skin covering me
Is beautiful
A protector of my being
But I do not love it
I don't love this body I live in
That I breathe in
It's made me feel insecure
Afraid of my innards
Forced me to cover it
I do not love my stomach
Or my thighs
With their unappealing size
I do not love my arms
Or my ankles
With a little too much extra
And I do not love my skin
A road map of acne scars and
Fresh stress breakouts
I no longer want the body I was given
I don't want this thing I live in
Give me something I love
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
The earth on the go
leaves a dew
on a so polished petals
as if that's never
been touched before.
If the dew rolls down
the sea dance in billows.
The moon too ambles down
but only to tread on the edge.
No star ever saw
it touched the lofty sea on the go!
Kings and emperors
wanted just a sip once for all.
Albeit not even Alexander the Great
could hand on a nectar is yet to pop
an uncharted water drop.
The sun first thing in the morning
tends to align towards it.
The nightingales hops on the rose
a new day breakouts in rays of gold.
When the arts of the day is done
'it's not' still a black canvas remains
on the pick of the twilight
the Moon gives the first pose
to the countless stars!
And that punters cloud somewhere
above the earth and down the sky
pours down singing
the deep song of the sea day and night.
Yet an uncharted but ever on
stands on tangent water drop
neither withers in the rays of sun
nor due to the gravity pulls down!
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 1:15 AM UTC