my bad poetry

6

This is an assignment for English.
We have to create our own slam poetry.
This is my poem.

It's silly really, how some people can be so dense.

Like say someone pulls a flower out of the of the ground and wonder why it dies.

Like how people ridicule me on my mistakes, I end up hearing the word stupid and other ones alike so often I now think that way.

I should be comfortable with who I am, and frankly what I do is none of your concern.

When I first got my haircut almost everybody's reaction was the same.

"Your beautiful curls are gone!"

"Why did you do that?"

Or towards my mom " why would you let her do that?"

It took me months to get my mother to agree to allow me to get the haircut I wanted

Now people are making her regret that decision?

It isn’t their concern to begin with.

MY CURLS ARE STILL THERE JUST SHORTER

and it's none of your business why I did it. It's my hair not yours. If I wanna cut it I'm going to cut it, if I really wanted your opinion I would have asked before I cut it.

Whenever I said "I hate my hair" people told me "beauty is pain" but why should I be in pain to meet society's unrealistic expectations on beauty. People shouldn't say things that are so... Un-necessary

I believe that YOU saw the beauty.

The beauty of my Scintillating eyes,

I've heard that before.

A comely young girl

made with the help of those

kinky curls that bounce

and match those rich chocolatey eyes

The very ones that gaze into space,

a face with freckles

like sprinkles on a cupcake.

A smile that never gets old.

Sure, you think all that but what I see is so much more.

The PERSON with the awkward laugh.

The face that is a bit more round than wanted.

Huge dimples that make that never aging smile dorky.

The curls that were hard to manage so they got cut.

And the body that just loses weight when gained.

The shaky hands that can't handle eyeliner.

The 5'2" of me who can barely pull a backpack off the hook in their top locker.

And so much more but I guess other's are better at seeing the beauty in things.

And yet, you still tell me things you would like me to do to fit your stupid idea of pretty.

Like, never cover up my freckles with makeup

don’t wear too much black.

I don’t think you know I couldn’t care less about your opinion

I am who I am and not who you want me to be.

I will continue to do things my way and not your way

I want to look back at myself one day knowing that who I became is who I wanted to become

not who people around me wanted me to become.