The pink flowery dress, is what I hate the most

To be honest, its quiet actually gross.

Why when I wear it, am I seen normal?

How much longer do I have to continue dressing formal?


Do I always have to have my head up and my legs crossed?

My emotions feel as if they are cooked and tossed.

With slightly pink lipstick, and curled back hair?

Oh help me please, I rather run bare. 


I rather happily sleep in a tunnel with nothing to eat,

and swim with the fishes who nibble my feet.

Watch the sunset and cities galore,

then spend one more day shopping at stores.


Why do I feel this awful and reeking pain

that suddenly started with my head to my veins?

Why when I dream do I think about this,

the tender unhappiness and the unfound bliss?


Somebody must have this problem too..

feeling like your the only one in this darkened room.

So why should I have to put up with this show

The perfect life and the rehearsed family photo?


Wouldn't they love me enough to realize? 

Or are they so blinded by their pointless disguise.

If they loved me so much, they'd understand

instead of forming me as their own counterfeit brand.


                                                                           K. Koch



This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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