I feel a little taller today, did I grow an inch or is it merely just the feeling I get when I painted on the red poisonous dye on my lips?
or maybe it's the colour of my hair, dipped into bleach to strip away my origins.
I think it's the layer of coloured plastic in my eyes that makes me tear as it burns the one thing that allows me to see.
this is me, this is me, no it's not
I'm doing this for me not for others. Liar.
Am I pretty enough? am I worthy enough?
Do you like me now?
YOU ARE READING
Perfectly Imperfect, You
PoetryA collection of the emotions you brought to me To the untouchable - love between two worlds *Translations for this book is strictly prohibited.* ® All Rights Reserved.
