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Literature Text
No, they don't see me crying.
No, they can't see me dying.
Not that they would care anyway.
Why can't there be another way
To show that I'm more than this
So they know I'm not at the abyss?
If only I could make it right.
Why must they always start a fight?
I swear, someday everything will change.
Why should anyone complain
When things can only get better?
We can build tomorrow together.
I swear, the future is shining bright.
Just please don't turn out the light.
We'll break the darkness someday.
Together, we can always find a way.
No, they can't see me dying.
Not that they would care anyway.
Why can't there be another way
To show that I'm more than this
So they know I'm not at the abyss?
If only I could make it right.
Why must they always start a fight?
I swear, someday everything will change.
Why should anyone complain
When things can only get better?
We can build tomorrow together.
I swear, the future is shining bright.
Just please don't turn out the light.
We'll break the darkness someday.
Together, we can always find a way.
Literature
proprioception
she claims
that you can spot virginity in the curve
of the hips.
i tell her
you can't see chastity in the way
the ilium crests, unless you fucked hard enough
to break it.
she smiles,
shows me the bruises carved into her bones,
traces the way his fingers held her-
what if you're already broken
to begin with?
Literature
If you're going to be sanctimonious
Awkward bodies are for growing
teenagers, not twenty-four
year old college graduates.
My hips were made to procreate;
my shoulders to carry the weight
of your stares. I’m perfectly fine;
your perception is what’s messed up.
I shave for my own comfort,
not yours. My nails are short
and chewed upon. I don’t
even own a pair of heels;
shackles would be more comfortable.
My hands are scratched
by all the cats I’ve cared for.
I look best in business casual;
slacks, tank, shell. I never remember
my bust size. I own more books
than clothes. My eyes are gold
in the late afternoon sunshine.
I can afford a bland oat
diet an
Literature
I'm not...
I’m not normal.
I think strange things,
say strange things,
do strange things,
like strange things...
I don’t know why.
I’m eccentric, weird even.
Maybe I spend too much time in my head.
I’m not a freak.
I feel things others feel,
need things others need,
warmth,
friendship,
love,
closeness, human contact,
the occasional pat on the back,
a real hug,
a tight, tight hug...
Maybe I feel a little differently from everyone else,
but then again,
who doesn’t?
And if you cut me,
do I not bleed?
I’m not all that sociable.
I’m awkward around new people,
or people I don’t know all that well,
and sometim
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Comments13
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This is amazing and so perfect <3