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Although I don't mean for it to happen,
and I tell myself his opinion doesn't matter,
Scott's hateful words get to me,
And when he says I'm ugly, I only get sadder (is that even a word?)
Sometimes I look into the mirror and think,
At least I don't have a cleft lip or deformity,
But then I think, "Just what if,"
People stared and thought I was pretty.
As he says these words, my family laughs,
Even my mother, my only ally,
And I feel small as a light,
About to set on fire and die.
People say I'm pretty, I hear it sometimes,
But the constant attacks from Scott,
about my freakis-long arms and my ribcage exposed,
And the fact I am smart, but seem like I'm not.
I cry sometimes, alone in my bed,
And wish I wasn't so all alone,
I have friends and people who care,
But I just want someone, anyone.
I worry about school, I've switched so much,
Will people like me at all,
Or think I'm idiotic,
Or hate me because I'm just too tall.
I spend hours just hating,
Everything everyone,
Hating my parents, hating myself, hating my clothes and my body,
Hating myself because of one person, just one.
Well, those of you who read my Journal,
Welcome to the side of Morgan no one sees,
For she only exists in handwriting and font,
And in the deepest darkest core of me.
 Morgana The Heartless · Thu Jul 19, 2007 @ 05:25pm · 1 Comments |
