When I look into the mirror
Why do I feel this way?
The fog in my brain isn't getting any clearer.
What am I supposed to say?
Do I tell someone how I feel?
Do I pretend that I love what I hate?
I don't want to display what isn't real.
There is just too much on my plate.
The truth is, it's not as easy as they claim.
To love one's self as they love to persuade.
I feel similar to a victim of maim!
The way I look, I've failed to aid.
What can I do to stop feeling like this?
To quit holding this much hate in my youth?
Is there something I can do to feel their bliss?
Nothing, that's what I can do, and that is my truth.
~a poem by Elizabeth Kay on self loathing~
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
CZYTASZ
What's Not Said | ✔
PoezjaA book full of poems on things that are just never said. *All photos seen in this book, including the cover, were photos taken by me~ Elizabeth Kay ~using my cellphone*
