today,
i was looking
at skin care
products online.
i thought about the
possibility
of my wider acceptance
if my appearance bettered.
i remember i have no one to please
because no one
will take the chance
to stop and not overlook me.
i don't get it.
i'm 6 foot fucking 3,
and you still can't see me?
oh right,
i remember...
you can only recognize me
when you have spite to release.
an arrow to shoot,
a vibration to settle in my brain.
every time i find a new beginning,
i end up right where my old
story left off.
i am heartbroken
that people around me
can read my thoughts,
and simply overlook them.
the art of being someone,
is not one that i have mastered.
but i hope i get there before
i can't bear myself anymore.
; i desire to not exist
YOU ARE READING
flecks of charisma
Poetry(old bad poetry don't read pls ahhh) flecks of charisma is a quintessential guide to not knowing how you're feeling, not knowing how to deal with it, but knowing how to adjust your life around it. some days are tough and some days can elongate into...
