A curtain of black hair blocked my vision
before I chuckled and swept them off,
Tugging behind my ears; I blink again;
I glanced up and staring straight to see,
To see a pair of deep, deep brown eyes
That reminds me of the darkest autumn,
Too perfect, but the redness didn't help,
And not to mention puffy and a bit heavy;
My gaze traveled around, and to the side,
Not pale and neither snow white skin,
But still, a darker complexion is still too,
Too perfect, but the bruises didn't help,
And not to mention the cut to the wrist;
Nah, ain't enough, these are still so pretty.
So I cut through the skin like it was paper,
And crimson dropplets dyed my pillows;
Suddenly feeling dizzy, I tossed my head
Inhaled the scent and comfort of my bed;
I can barely breathe, I can barely think;
But one thing I know was very certain;
I held up the mirror again, and looked at it;
Smiling to myself, "Too perfect, too pretty."
People telling me things, what do they know?
All I know is I'm beautiful and a little crazy.
YOU ARE READING
Read My Soul
Poetry"Writing my soul in the form of poetry." They say if you'd wish to know more about a poet, you should read their poems - because that's where their hearts are poured into. This book is a collection of poetry (and prose) that I wrote to express all m...
