How To Fit InHow to Fit In
Let’s start off with your appearance.
Because you need a disguise to hide
Inside of a crowd.
Strip yourself of all of the clothing you use to express yourself.
So you can get lost,
And never be found.
Fix your hair,
Cake on some make up
Because in a crowd.
Looks will always speak louder than words.
People don’t want to hear what you have to say,
They just want to see a pretty face.
Fix your eyes that are too big.
You have too many ideas.
They rage around inside your head,
Like birds trying to escape a cage.
But never write those ideas down on a page.
Is a sin.
When you’re trying to fit in.
Just let them fly away.
Never to be seen again.
Now that you’re vapid,
Dull as a rock.
Not an original thought to be seen.
Yes, you’ve achieved
But was it actually worth it?
Trading in everything that makes you so spectacular.
To fit in with the rest of the main stream crowd.
Stop trying to
Only your body.
To what matters
Only to what has value to him.
Your marvelous self
That's So Gay"That's so gay,"
Is what you say,
You've pushed one
Of your friends away.
"Oh no, honey,
Boys don't play
With Barbie dolls."
By enforcing gender roles,
You are killing
And telling them
That you'll love them no matter what*
Don't push your loved ones
With things you do or say,
Because words hurt;
But they hurt most
From the mouths of
The people that told you,
They'd always love you.
Saying, "that's so gay",
Or making them behave
In a gendered way,
Is telling them
That it's not okay
To be something
They can't help.
(And even if they could,
And it will hurt them
And every time you're together,
They'll be wondering;
"Am I wrong?"
"Do I really belong?"
Every time you say something like,
"That's so gay",
You burn someone's trust away.
And you can't build anything back
A midnight confessionWhen sadness
I only wished
to put a stamp
and send it away
(the result always
return to sender)
A Letter To The Girl Who Hates Her BodyA letter to the girl who hates her body.
A letter to that girl
Who scrolls through tumblr.
Admiring all of those models.
With thigh gaps that look cute with skirts.
And a waist that you can barely see.
A letter to the girl
Who looks at models,
For their curves.
The way their hips go outwards
And their size D cup breasts.
Please don't look in the mirror,
And hate the girl you see.
That girl is you
And she should be loved unconditionally.
Because you deserve love.
And how much love is not determined on your waist size,
Whether you're chubby or skinny
You're still so very pretty.
You're so perfect.
So for every time you look in that mirror.
And tell yourself you aren't worth it.
That you're arms are too big,
Your hips aren't big enough.
I am a woman.
I am strong.
I have a body like a castle.
A kingdom made just for me.
And I will not destroy that castle,
By trying to starve myself.
By taking brick by brick and dismantling it
radiancei am running
on blood and light
fluttering firefly chasms
in spaces once
i spit silver silences
that colour quickfire
a vivid fragility
i'm not faded;
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
her beautiful words
and telling her to
keep it down,
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
You Can't Compare PainAny pain is valid.
Some pain might be stronger than others,
And might be there for more tragic reasons.
But don't tell someone to be tougher.
Because someone else has it rougher than them.
The person you're saying that to
While the stuff they're going through
Might not be as bad as stuff others are.
It is still pain.
And pain hurts no matter what type of rain
Whether a drizzle or a downpour.
You're still going to feel the ice cold water pellets
On your skin.
I've heard someone say,
That you can't be depressed because you have a roof over you head.
And while I am very, very sorry that some can't say the same.
You should be ashamed
For saying such a thing.
Pain is not something that can be ranked,
It is not something you can compare.
We all still feel depression and despair.
Because we're all humans with emotions
Everyone gets sad.
So don't go and make someone feel bad
For feeling a certain way.
Dreaming Keeps the Dreamer SaneTo the dreamer.
The one who sits and stares into corners of the class room.
Dreaming of some place better.
Whether that place is real or not.
It is just anywhere other than here.
We paint over the whites of the walls.
Our minds are the paint and our eyes are the brushes.
Turning ordinary objects into castles that stand 30 feet tall.
And people into characters for our plays,
That fill our imaginative brains.
We tune out the lectures out of boredom or from wanting to escape.
We turn the blank of our note book's page
Into a mess of jumbled words of a song.
That we once heard as a conversation in a coffee shop,
It sounded like a soft tune then, just filling the silence
With soft mumbles and whispers,
Of a stranger's life that we heard bits and pieces of.
We create symphonies out of the rain
As the thunder rolls in the distance.
We turn the noise into music in our brains.
Something to distract us from the pain,
Because in the end,
Dreaming keeps the dreamer sane.