Someone Call Poison Control
i want to go back to a time where i felt pretty
a time where i felt
something.
where slam poetry about brittle bones and bottles spoke to me
where sharp pieces of metal and sexy, seducing, sad songs spoke for me
and scars whispered what could’ve never been said
projectile vomiting diet coke and sugar-free bubblegum
choking on what i didn’t eat and the secrets eating me alive.
what a beautiful way to rot
i am a pesticide covered flower
a beautiful being crumbling slowly
right in front of your eyes.
you picked me to try and brighten your already dull life,
unknowing of my dullness
placed me in a dirty glass
what else could you have done?
i felt.
I felt pretty.
something.
something i wasn’t used to
like i was meant for more than rotting in this flower bed.
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