She knows they call her a freak But no one else seems to listen When the trees decide to speak. So who better than the girl in the blue skirt? Bright-eyed, kindhearted, unafraid, Always ready to listen, always covered in dirt. The trees don't care About her dirt covered skirt Or even when she has twigs in her hair. The air was hot and thrumming When the trees told her "Listen, a storm is coming." (this is about a book i read when i was much younger)
I'm not original I never was original You might think I'm different But I'm just conventional In a way you're not used to That doesn't make me original. Does this hair make me pretty? Does it make you uncomfortable? I hope it makes you nervous, 'Cause I don't want you to talk to me That's not original It's the same as everybody. Maybe I am traumatized, Or maybe I'm just whining I feel like I'm gonna cry God I hope it starts raining. I want to be original I want people to look at me and say, "God I want to be like them, They're just so inspiring." I just want to be myself, But I don't know who "myself" is. I want to be a superstar I want to be nobody.
Fingers deftly dance Clicking across clacking keys Nothing comes to mind
The Sun’s heat freezes me
But in the cold I can melt.
Empty eyes, dry hair,
Gaunt face, and hollow stomach,
This is the way I’m supposed to be.
I’ll reach my goal one day
One day I’ll bee 100 pounds,
The goal is never met,
It keeps getting further and further away
The numbers get smaller
But my waist is still to big.
If I reach 0 pounds
Will it be enough?
If I drop dead
Will it finally be enough?
I have fur on my arms
But I’m not a bitch.
I have fog in my brain
but I’m not a ditz.
I starve myself
Of things that I need
So you will like me
Please like me.
The only thing I can be is pretty
So am I pretty yet?
I’ll change my hair if you want
Give me a knife
And I’ll scrape the fat off my bones.
Green brushes against blue
The fluttering of our wings
matches the pace of our hearts.
Sitting on the highest branch
Of the tallest tree
I could see for miles all around,
but all I see is you.
I slip my hand into yours
And pretend not to see the blush
On your handsome face.
A bird perches
And eyes us curiously.
You whistle at it and laugh
When the startled bird flies of into the moors.
Crumbling bones of salt cannot hold the demons at bay any longer
Their liquid limbs lap at my skull and my ribs
My head crumbles open and they burrow into my brain,
Piping their bodies into my consciousness.
My body is being rebuilt,
bone by titanium bone,
Scar tissue wrapping my flesh,
Until I am impenetrable.
My body is a nest for the darker things in life,
But do not be mistaken,
For the light still shines through my eyes.