The Most Normal Girl

39 16 8
                                    

No one cares about my tears. They're used to my cryin'
But they don't know how much I hurt every time

I wanted to be a good girl, but not them
This makes me give the most hate to myself

Expecting being loved is disgusting
Pathetically I'm still and always waiting

When they turn my love into an old wound in the future
I'm still known as the most normal girl

I hate this insatiable need that is chewing my being like a termite
The darkness of the truth left me no light

Through angry voices screaming in my head "let it go"
I'm seeking a chance to show my kindness as big as the world

even though I see my fall and collapse
wavering my hand to those who watching from above

When in a second they forget the promise forever
I'm still known as the most normal girl

You can call me stupid from miles away
But no one see that I'm struggling with guilt

Now I understand why the earth is full of evil
Hunting the snake under the rock is harder than sparrow

Maybe if parrots had tricks like crows, they wouldn't be in cages
But can they change the colors even if they pluck the feathers?

When I closed my eyes to not see who pierced my heart
I'm still known as the most normal girl

My eyes are literally the window to my soul
look and you can see my thoughts as clear as the mirror
But I'm still known as the most normal girl

________

Maybe many of us have the feeling that we look like a very normal person, like we're ordinary and common in everything. At least I've felt this way whole my life.

My purpose in writing this poem was to prove to myself that if I'm always going to be a normal girl, even though I always try to behave well, but I'm not seen by anyone, I cannot change my nature.

Just like a crow. if you pluck its wings, it will still remain a crow. I'm tormented by my nature, or maybe it's better to say that people make me feel this way.

The kinder you are, the more scars you have. I don't know when I'll be able to love myself, but I know without love, a person becomes a soulless body waiting to die.

What do you feel about yourself?

How much do you love yourself and accept what you are?

Do you know who you are? :)

Love💕Sweetheart

Wed, Jan 3

If My Tears Could Write //Poetry//Where stories live. Discover now