She's her self, she wears old clothes and listens to old songs and watches old movies and she doesn't belong
She wasn't beautiful enough.
Shes changing, She wears newer clothes and listens to 2000's songs and watches more recent movies and she doesn't like herself
She wasn't beautiful enough.
Shes numb, she wears name brand clothes and listens to today's hit songs and watches the hottest, latest movies and she doesn't know who she is.
she felt lost in her own body
And she doesn't know who she is
She cut her skin, she hated all of her mirrors, she cried at night and still she was told she was
"Ugly"
"Gross"
"Freak"
"Horrible"
"Worthless bitch"
And more everyday.
She couldn't take it anymore, she hated herself more than anything, she cut words on her arm
"Am I beautiful enough yet?"
And tied a rope.
She finally "fit in"
The same people who had tormented her all her life
We're crying at her funeral
Saying lies
"She was so beautiful
Such a bright person
I'm sorry for your loss"
She was always beautiful enough,
Why couldn't she see?
She was the most beautiful person to me.
Congratulations Society,
You've won she's dead.
Another life stolen.
And now I'm hanging on by a thread.
Why are you so fucked up?
Why am I so fucked up?
I don't understand.
And it's these type of questions that make me want to just let it end.
YOU ARE READING
Isabelle's Poetry Journal (a continuation of Homesick Angel)
PoetryMy name is Isabelle I am 15 years old (not my real age.) I am a "Homesick Angel" at least that's what I'm told I am called the people like me are called the people who are depressed suicidal empty numb those people they're just trying to go home T...
