Poetry

They are all

As the bottom

Of my foot,

Cold and unfeeling

To the outside,

Real world.

Unable to see

Beyond their

Oxygen induced

Blood filled

Eyes.

Unable to break

Open the

Eggshell of

Society even the

Slightest bit

Because then,

Oh my,

The sunshine

Might hurt their

Precious little

Hearts.

Who knows,

They might even get

A little of the

Blood that I shed

When I changed,

Upon their

Perfect clothes

As they

Realize that I too

Once reconciled

Into their society

Where you aren't

Beautiful unless

You were stick-figure

Thin, with the

Rest of the

Package.

Batteries not

Included in this

B.O.B.,

Please purchase

Separately.

How I wish that

I could have

Purchased this

Society separately,

Maybe it was

Sold on the page

That they ripped

Out so that I

Could never be

Like them,

Not that I

Will ever want to.

Never again

Will I look

Into the

Mirror and see

What they all saw

Looking at me,

A person

Trying to

Fit in,

Even if it were

Her life on

The line.

Because I had only

Found one way

To make me feel

Beautiful to them.

Then I walked into

English class that day,

Good thing I never

Skipped that class,

It gave me

A new horizon

Insightful and true

Into a new beauty

Called poetry.

Poetry is beauty

To me,

And my words

Can be heard

Resounding in

Your head

Once you

Realize that

I was right...

Again.