i think whats kinda sad is that for some of us chubby people, the idea of being asked out for stuff like valentines day and dances and shit is so foreign than if we were asked, or given a card, or told we’re beautiful, we’d assume it’s a prank right off the bat. i think that kinda says something about our society. that we’ve been taught for so long that we’re something to be shunned that the very thought of someone wanting us is something we can’t process.
I have never been beautiful,
and I am no one to judge;
but the girl peering out at you
through blood shot eyes and matted hair
is truly the ugliest I’ve ever seen.
Heaving through corrupted lungs,
clutching her broken ribs,
she falls to the ground.
I’ve never been much of a fortune teller
but this girl is dying.
Tears fall down her fragile porcelain face
like rain falling from a sad sky
and her heavy sobs are the thunder
that sends small children running for cover.
Yet there is no lightning.
No light left in her eyes.
Fading dye in her dead hair
and nails chewed to the cuticle
she shakes with anxiety.
Her hands shake as she pops pills
into her small pink mouth
greedily like candy.
This girl is dying.
Her small boney fist is raised
and with all the might left
in her emaciated
She shatters the mirror.
My knuckles are bleeding.
I used to write love poems. How quickly things change.