I dream of him leaning in
And thinking softly to himself
I glisten
Like a beautiful star

Ugly ugly girl
You try so hard, but it never works
You paint your face to make it clear
You wear lashes so your eyes are big
And line your lips so they look full
You even try to fix your nose
The curl in your hair is to match your face
And the hairspray so it doesn’t go away
Lastly perfume so they say you smell sweet
Yet even with the money you pay
Or the time you spend
You still seem so broken
Like you’ve always been
It never goes away no matter how hard you try to cover it
Ugly ugly girl
You try so hard but it never works
You will never stop aching to be pretty
So you can be put back together

A pretty girl
Pretty like a song
A poem
Like a bird she flies so high
Her voice soft as a feather
She has rosy lips and big brown eyes
A smile that lights up the room
You could tie her in ribbon and put her on a shelf
And she would live in a dollhouse
I stare at her in admiration
I do love her so
But suddenly my eyes turn crooked
As envy takes the soul
I’m a shadow in the dark
A sad sad story
Though I am not ugly
I certainly am not the glory
My skin is jagged while hers is soft
She is big and I am not
With my big sad eyes and smile I despise
I stare in jealousy as she prances with pride
I want to be beautiful
And I really do try
But nothing compares to her
A bird that flies so high

There are times I hate being a girl
And it eats my insides like a savoury meal
But the hate is all I can feel
I hate the pressure to be a standard that is in our heads
To have pretty eyes, big butts and large round chests
The beating of our hearts when we are met with the man who will follow us home on a moonlit night
Our screams not being heard till we’re out of sight
Yet we still hear them in the air that once gave us life
And we get blamed for it, because supposedly what we were wearing was “too tight.”
So yes I hate being a girl sometimes
Not all of it, but the haunting experiences we face we try so hard to fight

A boy
Lives inside me
Beneath my skin that I paint with foundation, blush and dresses made of linen
He climbs my thoughts like tree branches and screams as loud as a lion
He watches in wonder as I trace my lips with liner and spray flowery scents on my arms, neck and face
He cries as men look at my figure and shout that they want a taste
As the boy I thought I loved touched me anyway
In places he doesn't even know how to say
The little boy goes back to a long time ago
When he was in a spotlight and was told to go
"There's no room for a boy when god chose you to be a girl"
So he lives inside of me
Watching me grow into the "women" I am
But he will always be there
Rolling around and being a lion

When I touch my arms I can’t feel them anymore
Of course I have arms and can feel the jaggedness of my skin and the soft texture of hair
But when I touch myself it never feels real
It’s a mental fixation within my brain
That tells me each and everyday that I do not exist in a world that feels so conscious to me
Everyone seems to have it figured out
What they like, what they love
hate and despise
Everyone has their lives in boxes
And I can’t remember what’s in mine
It feels so pointless as I write this poem
Who will read it?
When I’m all alone
I don’t feel my presence and I don’t feel seen
It’s funny when you didn’t cut, but you still feel the bleed
And people ask “why do you bleed?”
My response is “I tripped as I crossed that street.”
They don’t question, because I tend to make mistakes
They are what got me here in the first place
So maybe if I let that kitchen knife go that deep, or if that lady kept typing on her phone as she almost hit me in the passenger seat
If mom used protection instead of wanting it between her legs at just nineteen
I don’t know how to stay, but I’m too scared to leave
So I just keep bleeding