Generic Poem book

7/27/17

The only thing more inviting to me than death is my childhood memories. My childhood is decorated in lace and frills, pearls and feather boas, and blonde curls and blue eyes. My memories are lit with neon pink light and children's laughter rings throughout them all along with images of children's smiles and bright eyes as far as the eyes can see. My teen-hood however, is decorated in tulle and black, oversized sweats and tears, make up and hair dye, uncertainty and identity issues, and the non existence of the fear of death and the fear of the dark. Instead of the neon pink light, a very dim light comforts my mind, instead of children's laughter ringing my ears, it's screaming and crying and shattering of mirrors, instead of weekends filled with friends, it's weekends laying in bed alone. Instead of sleep, it's laying under the dim light given from the fairy lights because I can't feel safe thanks to the anxiety. My blue eyes are no longer bright but dull and teary. My body issues are tearing me apart but it seems no one cares. The reason I wrote this is because me as a child and me now are very different. The difference between me then and me now is I grew up realized the world doesn't care about feather boas. - Feather boas