Dear sylvia plath, kristen stewart, Josephine from my chemistry class, and every other girl I know, 

I used to tiptoe around sunflowers, tan skin, orange, yellow, laughter, big meals and sappy words and stupid jokes. As kids we are taught to avoid anything big and bright, the pretty girls on tv were quiet and pale. Being blonde was a sin, being the funny friend was social suicide. The books about us fell off the shelves and gardens replaced us with violets. We learn, we catch on, soon we are lowering our voices, cutting away at our hair. Grey is a pretty color, purple too, not yellow or pink or me or you. I spent 4 years giggling when I could've been laughing, trading my torch in for a blade, digging myself deeper into a pale, black, quiet silence. I am bright, loud, obnoxious, excited, dorky, forgetful, stubborn, outgoing, i talk too loud and my hair is frizzy and I dont give a shit about alternative indie. I don't want to write love poems or paint rainy skies, action movies are so much cooler than your student films. I like palm trees over weeping willows and i fucking hate the color black!


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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