The Academy Goes To...
"you're beautiful," so they
say. your eyes glow brighter than the setting sun in July,
they swoon. they smile and trace your face and
play with your hair, "pretty, pretty
girl," they tell you. skin so fair and cheeks so pink. "Darling,
you could be a star."
perhaps in your own destruction because
they never see the purple
bruises under your lower lashes or the frown
always at beck and call. you play make
believe despite the fact
that you're almost grown, pretending that
their cooing whispers are true. but you've
convinced yourself that they
lie to spite you because they don't see
your body shake in the shower as you cry or notice the
glinting white lines that decorate your
body like your mothers fine jewelery. they don't see
the emptiness in your eyes, they don't know. but they couldn't
because you play pretend like you're making
a salary out of a hobby.
girl," you smile as you put on your
bracelets of red.
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