Poetry

THE FAÇADE.

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Under the façade of sarcasm and insults
Hides an insecure girl who is trying to hide her most recent wounds.
They are fresh, gaping, bleeding.
She hopes nobody would smell the stench of hurt.
She hopes nobody sees through to the bone deep disappointment.

Under the façade of winged eyeliner and smoky eyes
Cowers an ugly girl who hates the curve of her hips and the thick of her thighs.
She hates it so much.
She hopes nobody ever discovers how deep that hate runs.
Her fuck-all attitude is all she has left.

Under the façade of the resting bitch face
Lives a mean cunt who used to burst into laughter at the dumbest of things.
Her laughter was the weirdest sound.
She hopes nobody hears it again.
She doesn’t want to be funnier than the joke anymore.

Under the façade of the rebel
Survives the most difficult shit they ever came across.
Why does she have to make everything so difficult?
Why is she so stubborn?
Why does she never listen?
She hopes nobody discovers she had listened a little too well once upon a time.
She doesn’t want anybody to hear her agreement when it isn’t given, ever again.

She wants to be heard loud and clear when she smacks that asshole with the big no of her rebellion.
She wants to laugh in the face of the rejection of “Boys will be Boys”.
She wants to embrace her curves when they won’t pose a risk of her wanting it.
She wants to accept her dose of pain when she believes her wounds will be scars one day;
When she believes they can heal.

She doesn’t yet.
And if she doesn’t ever, she will be the sarcastic bitch with the fuck-all attitude who can rebel like nobody’s business.
It’s more fun anyway.

-a-

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Poetry

Not ready to Move On.

Angry with

The past and

All its spoils

She kept pushing

It away.

She wasn’t ready

For the bone-deep

Hurt to engulf

Her.

She wasn’t ready

For the gloating.

She wasn’t ready.

She wasn’t sure

She would ever

Be ready.