Pretty Girls
They told me not to speak about it.
Pretty girls should't have ugly problems.
Pretty girls should be grateful.
Pretty girls should be poised.
So, they molded me into that.
Forced me to eat what was in my plate,
Forced me to play their games.
And people believed the illusion that I am a pretty girl.
But my mind was in chaos,
And ou can't contain chaos.
Mine was dark and it would ooze out sometimes.
After I managed to sawllow it back down I'd be ashamed.
I thought that I didn't have the right to acknowledge that at any moment I could drown in it.
But I did drown,
I drowned constantly over my words when they left to call for help.
Only to find that those words pushed me underwater.
When a word managed to find it's way to someone, doubts flared.
Even if the person got to hear my cries, they would't believe me.
And if they believed me, they wouldn't care.
And if they cared, they would throw a lifesaver fifty feet away from the place I was at.
The waves would would crash against me,
I was unable to move
And there was nothing I could do.
I could still hear them though.
They told me:
Pretty girls don't have ugly problems.
When they do, they bear them with poise.
They're grateful and don't utter a noise.
I didn't write this out to beg for pity,
Nor do I care for you to make much sense in it.
I just needed to be free of it.
Free, like how my maltreaters will always be.
But I need you to know one cruel truth:
Society looks the other way when people drown,
Only those strong enough get to make their way ashore.
Chaos is a constant in my mind.
Those who also have it know
That the shore isn't safe when you had to swallow the sea down.
And there is no home waiting when the ocean smooths out.
So you hope for a new place where your heart can be warm.
You guard it day and night so chaos can't roam.
And when you remember what they told you:
Pretty girls should be grateful.
Pretty girls should be poised.
Screw that!
Pretty girls should save themselves
And light a fire in their souls.