"springday" poems
you are not their definition of beauty.
they say that you are nothing more than your white, cracked bones
but they don't see the crystalblue sea that's flowing inside your bones
they say, that you are nothing more, than your destroying cigarettes
but they don't see the daisys, that grow in your lungs
they say, that your blood is nothing more than devasting alcohol
but they don't see, that it's that blood, that makes your lips more red, than a thousand roses on a sparkling springday
they say, that there are nothing more, than braincells, ruinning through your head
but they don't see, the effervescent stars, and the sparkling snowflakes falling out of your eyes
they say that your skin, is nothing more than the faults and scars in it,
but they don't see the sunset, hiding under the first layer of skin.
*You are not their definition of beauty, you are not their definition of you.*
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC