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violetisblue Mar 2021
And the homely girls
The plain-faced girls
The four point fives out of ten
With crooked noses or
Baggy eyelids or
Halos of glorious frizz-
And, even better,
All of the above

Every feature she hates
Is the one I cherish
When the ugly girl
Nitpicks her eyes, mouth,
Ears, nose, teeth, hands,
Hair, skin, ****, *****, legs-
I just love her even more

There’s an unspoken kinship
Between the girls with
The acne, the bad teeth,
The timid smiles and slouched backs
Because we dare to exist
Despite all we’ve been told
Us audacious angels
Of alternative attraction

The most powerful force of the planet:
The ugly girl.
I have that all of my pets died here
I hate that the best people here are still racists and homophobic
I hate that my boss nitpicks, micromanages, belittles, and humiliates everyone and HR won't do a thing about it.
I hate that I am dependent on a job to pay off student loans
I hate that my boss is inside of my head even when I am home

I have flashes of hurting and killing myself.

I have to get rid of everything so my husband doesn't have to deal with it when I die.

death is so expensive. Even cremation breaks 5 figures.
What if I just leave a note and disappear?

How would I even disappear? This planet is crawling with filthy humans.

I just want to die.

Maybe I will travel to a poor country and pay someone to shoot me in the head and burry me.

If only . . .
Mohd Arshad Jul 2019
Solitude is such a wonderful society
Where no one nitpicks and censures us;
Only peace lingers on...
Bekah Halle Oct 5
Is poetry found in our blood
or squeezed out in sweat and tears?
Is it a talent that only the fortunate
get? Or liberation of our fears?
Can one hone it with practice,
Or give up now and change gears?
Then, is poetry for the anxious
perfectionist that nitpicks through the tears?
Maybe it's for the one,
Who is curious, observes and leers?
If it were just talent, then I'd be overlooked
And if it was sheer hard work, I'd lax my jeers
Because I lack the patience.
For me, the Spirit of creativity shoots out words like spears.
Nola Leech Jul 2020
You hold bones just to break them
You saw me drowning in a shallow kitty pool
The one that you filled up
With  years of little nitpicks about my body
And my own self worth
You acted surprised when I couldn’t hold my breath any longer
My bones weren't strong enough to handle your snaps
Weak from the lack of calcium
From the lack of food in general
Why didn’t you say anything the first time you heard the tsunami coming from the upstairs bathroom?
When my tears could fill an entire mason jar you bought for the sole purpose of drinking your morning coffee
Why didn’t you tell me I was wrong?
I was 115 pounds and thought I was too big
Maybe you did too
Is that Why didn’t you say anything?

— The End —