6 years old.
blue ribbon, silk ribbon,
streaming through my hair.
pigtails, toothless smile;
mirror am i pretty yet?
10 years old.
ponytail, bobby pins,
taming my messy hair.
chubby thighs, crooked smile;
mirror am i pretty yet?
14 years old.
straight hair, lipstick,
mascara running down my face.
trembling knees, broken smile;
mirror am i pretty yet?
16 years old.
messy bun, chapped lips,
sobbing eyes and bloody wrists.
bony thighs , fake smile;
mirror am i pretty yet?
YOU ARE READING
deadroses || poetry
Poetry"we had a vision though, now we dead roses" now, why did she send them? these broken down, wilted, beat up, rotten-looking flowers.
