pretty
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This night I suffered much from thoughts
As they abused me without thought
I suffered much more than I thought
As now they haunt me
I remember swiping on your profile
Your eyes like stormy skies
I remember your smile
The way it tilted slightly to the right
And the way I couldn’t stop staring at you
But it almost feels illegal
There is only one way to love.
We work and work and still we fail
Taking our breaks and trying to resolve
Only to leave each other and devolve
We're cheated and hurt, hoping for someone
Different.
You say you see something pretty in me
Like nothing you have ever seen before
Maybe it's the fact I see myself all the time. But
I see nothing at all when I look at me.
I never understood the word moonbeam until I saw one. A stream of milky white on a canvas of dark and unforgiving ocean. The moon seemed to paint a streak down the middle as if someone had dropped the paint brush.
Skin, smooth and tan, a glow
That the sun envy’s and the skies adore
A look so divine that I’ll never know
Curly hair delicately intertwined
It’s time to watch the fireworks
As they fill the sky with light
these small controlled explosions
That seem to split the night
They remind me of my childhood
and of patriotic dreams
How to be pretty if you are unfortunate with your looks; a WikiHow
Be realistic, are you “ugly” or just simply average?
Average is normal
Am I pretty now?
You told me I need makeup,
You can hardly tell it is me anymore,
Am I pretty now?
You said I needed to lose some weight,
Well i have, now I'm anorexic,
Am I pretty now?
What a beautiful weapon she is.
She's the sharpest edge and the prettiest sight,
The softest, sweetest bringer of night,
And all with a teasing kiss.
What a beautiful, beautiful weapon she is.
The thoughts that hide within the back of the mind
The words we think but not say
Of the people not heard when they speak
When I was young I used to want to be a singer
But my mother said, Mija that job is not for you
Successful singers are not usually brown, Try something else.
So I wanted to be a baker and open up my own Panadería.
I spill all these
Constellations from
My starry mouth,
And pretend it doesn’t hurt,
When I see you more enjoying the moon.
-ajh.
What is love
Love is a chemical reaction
Love isn’t black eyes and bruised cheeks
Love is gentle caresses and soft kisses on Sunday mornings
imperfection is a pimple.
an irregularity, red and raised
in the middle of your face when you are 11
to you it is unfamiliar
so you buy concealer
Hair.
My hair is beautiful.
I have the hair of a princess.
Long and flowy, and shines in sun;
perfect in every way
I deserve the hair of a princess.
100 brush strokes every night
As I sit there stroking the strands of lickorish silk from your head,
I think of our future, the things we would do, the things would see,
The more we talked the less we found strangers of ourselves,
And the more we remembered,
Remembered about how perfect this world was becoming,
A tingly warmth invaded my body like flame meeting steam
There once was a beautiful queen
She had skin like honey,
eyes like emerald,
and hair as big as cotton candy.
She was so beautiful
and kings traveled far and wide to make her their bride.
Peter Pan
The boy who refused to grow up
To never become a man
And to never give up
So he choose to run
There is something strangely comforting
About standing in the dark
Overlooking New York City
In a park across the bay
In the dead of winter
Clockwise.
The time ticks away,
Fast yet slow.
Minutes ticking by,
Second trudging along.
Time moves clockwise,
It seems.
You slip into old mistakes
As time continues to tick.
See, society has taught us that everyone is beautiful in their own way
You know, except the ones with no thigh gaps and no chiseled cheeks
The ones who don’t have collar bones or a flat tummy
Glowing luminescent in the
Soft dark sky,
A golden claw hangs.
A perfect, untouched rose
In a garden of withered grasses.
A shining crescent, ever alluring,
There's a battle out there- this world's got a scheme
To take the 'you' and replace it with 'me'
That's what they call the Hollywood machine-
It just starts with one flaw may never have seen
I never thought I was pretty,
My hair is messy,
My thighs are fat,
I’m not liked by boys.
So what am I?
Am I ugly?
Am I fat?
Or am I both?
But then again,
I've been innocent since forever
But forever never came
So I've been lying in this bed awake
While my dreams chase after me
They've been calling out my name
As I look back at their stitched mouths
Your so pretty.
Your so smart.
Your so pretty.
Your so smart.
It seems almost like an constant pattern
If your pretty then your alright because you becoming,
an matern.
dear world,
and people that love math,
and shapes,
and lines and boxes,
I think you should know that these things are dumb and pointless.
(except circles)
This girl was crazy
But she looked like a mountain daisy.
Her brown curly hair
Made her blue eyes be stared.
She was the clown of the group
So she was kept in the loop
They always tell you what you cannot and cannot be,
I never focused on them,
I focused on me.
Yes, maybe I like to read my books instead of party,
I am not dumb
I am not stupid
I am not weird
I am not useless
I am smart
I am witty
I am fun
I am pretty
I am important
A girl of just fourteen
Decides to go lean
Little by little stop the meals
Skip the breakfast
Take the heel
A moment on the lips
A lifetime on the hips
A year passes
She's underweight
Eyeliner accents the eyes of a woman who seeks. Stilettos and the finest dress compliment her silhouette.
I have freckled cheeks and chapped lips.
I have never known what to do with my hair,
and I'm sure I sweat my makeup off before lunch everyday.
I am not pretty.
Because pretty is a flower,
Who am I behind the camera lens?
I constantly take pictures with my friends.
Everyone that looks at my Instagram
thinks I'm going ham.
Behind the filter I am Sylvia.
Behind the likes and "thumbs up" I am Lucy.
Before the mascara I am a daughter.
Named by my free spirited parents'
Name sake of shimmering light in the forest.
I'm not like the other girls,
I don't cake on makeup,
I don't wear dresses and skirts,
I don't need to.
What do I look like? I tend to think I am like most girls my age. I am a plain 5'2 and my hair will never be as long as I would like. My skin has bumps and hair that I certainly am not proud of. But what do I really look like?
Beauty is in the Eyes of Society
Growing up, I was never skinny; my skin was dark and all I wanted was to be pretty.
I was 10; looking at magazines, seeing all of the skinny girls
Flowers are pretty, just like me.
Flowers smell nice, just like me.
Flowers can dance in the wind, just like me.
Sunflowers turn where the sun sure shines.
Like a sunflower, I find myself
When you tell a girl she’s pretty
she’ll paint a smile on her face
so she won’t look in the mirror
and see her life was a waste
When you tell a girl she’s pretty
on compliments she’ll feed
I look in the mirror
You know what I see?
Such an unhappy girl
Staring back at me.
She sits and she stares
Waiting for something to change
Too much darkness to bare
That nests in her brain.
There are those who cherish their family.
There are those who cherish their friends.
But for some, like me, they are one.
My friends are my sky full of stars.
Girl stands alone in her bathroompleading for solace.Eyes lock on the mirror,the reflection of a girl with possibilities a mere stain.She is there,she exists,in every corner that Girl turns.
When I look
at their faces,
Drenched in perfection,
When I flip the pages,
I look into their eyes,
like they're masked in disguise,
they look so ideal,
This cannot be real,
Why stand alone when the battle is nearly won
Why stand alone eventho the odds are against your will
“Mirror, mirror on my wall
Who is fairest of them all?
I know it not to be me
With how I look, how could it be?
I am not thin or sweet or smart.
I do not look like a piece of art.
No color is more beautiful than the otherBut, I'm "pretty for a darkskin girl"So, I'm always separated from any other.
Rude looks and cynical murmurs are deflected
by the array of metaphors and smart jargon
that pretty people will never see beyond because
I write to dig to the bottom of issues, yet
Social society deems me imperfect – just another product went defective
I try to ignore the pressure but the cover of the magazine holds me captive
Yet here we are in our Photoshop world with our newly made disguise
Pick me not a flowerAs though that were all I amA quickly fading pretty thingJust a trinket in your hand
Disparge the innocent, laudable overachieve/ The real world will masticate her eventually/ Avoiding the fiasco of life will soon catch up with the doe-eyed and free-spirted/ only the good die young, my pretty/ One dubious thought, one regret/ One
(poems go here)
Looking at her
with her Chinchilla fur.
Lady of Guidance and Grace
only to shut you down in your face.
With her arrogant brow
she demands all to take a bow .
It would say:
For eyeliner, mascara, blush, and concealer,
All there for girls appeasement
And there magical purpose
Remains to bring about disguise
Feelings. internal
Expressions. external
The vastness of the mind. immeasurable
All the reason why. Unfathomable
How do you begin understand something. Untamed
How do you understand your self. Deranged
I feel strong
But I feel weak
I feel proud,
Yet I feel bleak
I feel gorgeous
And grotesque
I feel pretty
When I’m dressed
I see fair girls
But I wonder
Are they really
A reflection
I am fat.
I am ugly.
All of these imperfections.
I need to be perfect.
I don't eat.
Fat equals ugly.
The mirror tells me so.
My reflection stares back at me.
Disgusting.
I just want to be pretty. I don’t want to be bangable, hot, sexy. No. I just want to be pretty. I want to be that girl that people can fall in love with at first sight. I want to be that girl that people get lost in when looking into my eyes.
In this shell,
Anger prevails.
Multitudes exact judgement on me,
Before they know my soul.
Existential wisdom is lost on them,
As their thoughts have already been consumed.
Utopia preoccupies their minds,
