like hope being removed for better sight towards standards and false improvement of yourself.
Over and over they tell me to fix myself. To improve myself.
It is never to be accepted, the truths within people that pass beyond the shallow scenery of their shell.
Sometimes I see into a person's heart. Sometimes I see the pain and anguish. And the fear of being un-accepted.
And then I see myself,
self absorbed little girl,
wishing to fly in space, to ride old-timy railroad trains, to be a singularity in a singular existence of a single little dot in the universe.
To be one with myself.
Their words repeating.
As I hear the sentences, they are reduced to words, not starting as such.
The things I love.
The things I live.
That are existing inside of me with such an effect.
The things that can stop my heart and revive it.
The things that do so, whenever I am in public, around the folk that I despise and envy and hate and feel nothing for.
The folk that means nothing to my soul but everything to my eyes.
At age 16 every horny perverted dick driven man wanted a piece of me.
At age 18 I was a used up doll.
At age 25 I am ready for silence. Forgotten. Ignored. Misunderstood. Denied. Rejected. Laughed at.
Fat. Old. Ugly.
Wishes so simple.
Wishes so un-doable.
Kill your idols?
Make me blind or give me a shotgun.
I just want to be a woman.