Truth hurts like the shards and pieces
cutting wounds and bleeding creases.
A rollercoaster when looking in
pushes me to overthink.
My reflection looks at me from within
and I notice I'm still fat, not skin.
They say "Inside is what really matters",
but that doesn't change that I see it.
And I hate that I can't change it.
I cry and scream.
The mirror just scatters.
VOUS LISEZ
paper poetry
PoésieCalliope, Erato, Euterpe A little collection of rhymes and poems for you to read if you like. The collection is always growing. The refrenced books, music or films aren't mine, but inspirational. Second book paper poetry II out now, this one is too...
