i originally wrote this july 23, 2010
mia, my long lost "friend"
mia was on my mind
i couldn't shake her thoughts
she never left
now my stomach is in knots
i told her i was done
done being her friend
but she played her wicked games
now she's back again
mia likes to mess with me,
watch me hurt myself
i thought i had her bottled up
and put her on the shelf
yet still mia makes me feel alive,
feel everything you don't.
demented as it may sound;
but leave, she just won't
we laughed together
and shared my tears
mia, my long lost "friend"
through the years
i want to hate her
but she coaxes me into love
says if i only do this or that,
then i'll be that beautiful dove
i wish mia'd leave
but then i wish she would stay
i can never commit
mia, just go away
i originally wrote this october 6, 2008
a barbie world and a mirror of ignorance
the thin desire more muscles, and the muscluar secretly want to be less dense, maybe just lean. the obsese are unhappy because they eat, and east because they are unhappy. they just want to be that girl on the front of the fitness magazine, though again, that paints an unrealistic dream with all the airbrushing and photoshopping. those with curly hair, yeah, they want the naturally straight. and tell me about the people with straight hair, they keep praying for some ounce of wave, of body, of motion in those locks. people with the second toe longer, they wonder what their feet would look like if they had "normal" feet. short people want to be taller with out faking it with high-heels, and tall people just want to find jeans that fit and not be stared at as they emerse into the public eye. understandable, completely. blondies? they want anything but blonde. and anyone without blonde, long for a lighter shade of what-ever-color. proof? girls-and guys-with dyed hair, look at their roots. bingo. not everyone has beautiful teeth, but they want them. braces and whitening, after that you can be socailly accepted in to the culture of "beautiful" people. ance presents a problem and those it plaugues just literally kills their self esteem. big breasts want a smaller chest and smaller-ive been there-want some curves to their figure.
why is it that we cant be content with who we are, not who we want to be?
i want a six-pack but i have an abhorred pouch of "extra skin" on my lower abs that i cant seem to rid. too much muscle, but i cant stop gaining the bulk. i want naturally straight hair to where i could just leap out of the shower and look flawless. my face, lets not even get started. my nose is too big and my cheeks looks like the moon. so im not exactly tall, but im not short either. im just a plain jane. no one wants average in this world. give me five foot eight, let me grow just two more inches. my hair is blonde, but i wish it were red. i wish i had freckles, little angel kisses that danced upon the brink of my regular sized nose and unscared, bronzed cheeks.
but here i am, 131 pounds of too much muscle in this 5"6' body of mine. here i am, looking in the mirror thinking "i know i look good, i know i look okay." but i cant help to think that every inch of this world, people feel the same. its everywhere. we cant fit the barbie doll mold that the media tries to force on us. we cant be walking skeletons, i mean models. we shouldnt even want that. there are things i wish were different to my physical appearance, and i know im not alone. but here i am, once agian i say this, looking in the mirror knowing that i am fine. i am living, i am breathing, i am accomplishing things in life that people only dream of. here i am, trying to accept who i am. yes, i have accept how i am made and who i am. not who i want to be, because i know ill never live-up, wait! no! live-down, i was made perfect for me. this is me. this is who i am. and if you, society, dont accept me because of your distorted views of "beautiful" maybe you should spend less time gazing into the mirror of ignorance.
i originally wrote this june 3, 2009
read between the lines, dear inmate
i am a prisoner to this ceramic tile.
you will not let me free.
you hold me in chains and cuffs.
your guards with watchful eyes.
i am stuck in this gagging routine.
nearly nothing is new.
you have stipend my calls,
help is now not listening.
you try to limit my intake
by documenting my deeds
but i steal like a theif
and then break like a victim
i feel like i am prisoner.
locked behind your colorless walls.
but the door is locked from the inside .
yet i am so very meak.
your barbed wire holds me in.
im afriad of leaving "home"
new inmates tell me it's time to flee
they do not know how this bowl screams
im brought to my knees
filled with guilt and shame
i deserve this prison treatment
my sentence has hardly begun