I am the girl with the pretty pink hair.
Who knows how to do makeup and sings for fun.
Who dresses in flannel and loves to run.
By run, I mean away from the bus stop.
As the cold cracks it's wrist whilst hitting me in the face.
I run to a place some could consider my home.
I run away from the people that make me feel any other way but safe.
But I'm running towards a place where safe is a mythical creature fabled to save the day.
Images mean more than you believe.
I am the girl with the pretty pink hair to match her pretty pink room.
Who has parents that bring pizza and act like there's no impending doom on this household of broken mirrors.
I live in a carnival.
I see a boy with curly hair.
and nice green eyes.
A lovely family.
He tells me that's their disguise.
He lives in a carnival too.
And so does the girl who resembles Rapunzel.
I M A G E
D O E S N T
E Q U A L
T R U T H
someday we all leave the carnival.
And then we make our own family.
And we bring them pizza and cry at night
they dye their hair a pretty pink to match their pretty pink room
And they run away from the broken mirrors too
cause they can't wait to escape this carnival of doom
---
its kinda terrible I kno but hello tis i
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The Astronomers Last Words (An abundance of poems)
PoetryWhen a notebook isn't enough to hold your thoughts you try tumblr. Then when that fails as well because maintaining a blog is a taxing task and you would rather be reblogging gay love you then decide to make a WattPad story. Everything is mine inclu...
