She Needed A Role Model, So That’s What She Became
Before,
She was was bullied
With a drunkard father
Growing up in Hollywood.
Many acquaintances,
But never a friend.
Her world got darker,
With each passing day,
Despite the flashes from the cameras,
Illuminating her.
And as she got older,
She fell to the drugs,
And the games
People played her as.
Her "friends" always made sure,
She was ready for a show.
But once it was over,
They were there no more.
They used her for money,
And self fame,
And every time she fell deeper,
Into her depression.
She dreamed for a savior,
But there was naught a single,
Light to look up to.
She hated her body,
Thought there was too much,
So after every meal,
She gagged herself,
And got it all out.
Soon,
Her only escape
Was to harm herself,
And slit her wrists.
The pain would flow,
Out of her,
For a time.
But once they scabbed over,
She would fill once again,
With sadness.
She spent many years,
Battling herself,
In a civil war,
And there was never a winner.
Until one day,
A side rose above.
She decided to get help,
Because she could stand this battle no longer.
So she checked in,
To the clinic,
That would be her home,
For three months.
There, she was healed,
For the most part.
And she emerged from the rubble,
And the broken down walls,
Like a Skyscraper.
She had taken a hold,
Of her life,
And had stopped the constant pain.
And now, she still suffers.
But oh, so much less.
She kicked out her old friends,
And replaced them with new.
Now she has Wilmer,
A beautiful dude,
And he makes her happy.
Her scars, she calls
Her battle wounds
Because now she is a Warrior
And her smiles are genuine.
His scars run so deep they pierce through him and into me
My fingers trace his scars
Long and deep
Scattered
Connecting the dots and lines
To form a picture of his past
A valley of pain
Hidden and unknown to most
A lasting reminder
Of mistakes made
Of what was lost
And what was saved
And all the regret and guilt
He still holds
To this day
Kneel
If you'd slash a gash
Along my neck
Well, that would be just fine
I'd take a pen
And draw something
With pretty crimson lines
If you'd bruise me dark
All down my arms
Well, that'd be alright too
I'd make chart
Of all the colors
Purple, yellow, blue
If you'd stab a knife
Through both my eyes
That'd be alright as well
I'd stare into the
Swirling black
And see where thoughts must dwell
But you don't, you see
You never will
That'd be far too barbaric.
You cut and stab my mind and heart
And I can hardly bear it.
So leave your words
And take your blade
And leave some scars I'll feel
To remind me how you
Did your worst
But I will never kneel.
The Right Leg
On my right leg, there is a large disruption. An intrusion on my skin, that makes it a little less than perfect.
When I run my hands up my right leg there it goes
Slightly broken in the middle, not rough but smooth.
Not like a keloid but shines in matte skin just like one.
Mm, it makes my skin just slightly less than perfect.
When I first got the intrusion I did not feel pain,
But I cried; screaming because my skin was no longer perfect.
Scarred
I was always the good girl, I have never even experienced detention so it was a suprise to all especially me when I scarred the bad boy.
You might ask how a skinny girl could ever put a scar on any part of a six foot steroid induced man, well who said anything about a physical scar? He was the only one nice to me though his attitude towards other people can make you think otherwise. He was always there for me and I was the only one he trusted with his secrets. I guess I never realized that I wasn't a good girl to start with, I was actually the bad girl in the story. He trusted me with his life but the minute I wasn't alone or an outcast anymore I ruined him, usinf every secret , every embarrassing moments I know about him, I destroyed him. A scar was left behind a deep and long slash in the heart that even surgery cannot remove. A scar that led to his death. I wonder, was I always this cruel from the beginning or had the upper society changed me. What do you think?