She paints a pretty
picture,
But the picture hasa twist.
The knife is her paint brush,
And the canvas is her wrist.
She used to be happy, I swear, it's true.
But after a while, do you understand what words can do?
They made her smiles turn to frowns,
And turned her laughter to sobs.
Little did they see, that the words did their job.
They claimed their word were harmless; not meant to hurt a
fly,
Too bad they hadn't noticed that they made this girl
cry.
On her last night she ran home knowng exactly what to do,
She got outa piece of paper, and started two write...
"This one's for you."
"I don't know what I did to deserve this awful names I
get called,
SO I figured I'd make it easy, and end this, once and for
all.
Bythe time you read this, I'll already be hung,
letting the world know what this society has done."
She used to paint pretty pictures,
Pictures with a twist.
But the pictures ended at her grave,
To let you know that society did this.
*mine, please don't
steal.
I've
stopped.
Ever since
summer began, I really haven't been eating.
I'm fat. wanna know how I know? My own
dad told me that I was fat. My
mom told my I had 'Thunder Thighs'.
I've never felt so unloved.. so
unwanted, so neglected. every time I
look in the mirror now, i can tell my face is sunken in,
just that much more. It's so
noticeable, but no one seems to care. So,
why should I?