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I hate that I'm just another tally on someone's list.
I hate that I'm not seen has a human but as a live version of a pocket pussy.
I hate it how I loose myself each time I give away another piece of me.
I hate that someone convinced me I was special ,when the only thing that's different is the color of my body.
I hate how dirty I feel in my own skin.
I hate how I let you take something you didn't deserve.
I hate it how I come apart when you touch me.
I hate how something beautiful now makes my skin crawl.
YOU ARE READING
Mixed Creations
PoetryI see things around me and I want to speak about it moreover rant. Because once I had no voice and writing became my voice. My words are my weapons yet their my savior. These pieces are connected closely to my personal life and from the world around...
