Oh my sixteen year old self


I found this old poem of mine on a yahoo group site dated back 2002..

Perfect cuts lined on her legs.
Perfect fingers scarred with pain.
Perfect families fight with knives and cries.
Perfect tears flow down her cheek.
Why is the world cruel.
Why is reality mean?
Perfect boys stab her heart.
With a imaginary scissors.
Perfect lies.
Secrets untold.
Perfect food.
In front of her face.
She pushes it away.
Perfect therapy.
Perfect pills.
Perfect trembles.
In her lips.
Perfect nakedness.
Her chest is cut.
No one wants her now.
She is a paper doll.
Perfect men.
Eat through her veins.
Perfect creatures.
Shout out her name.
Perfect wishes.
All she wants is to be.
Perfect.
What is she thinking.
Perfect world torn in two.
Who will she turn too?
Perfect flowers fall on her hair.
Perfect petals crush her eyelids.
Perfect blood.
Tastes so bitter.
The numb feeling.
My soul comes hither.
Perfect dolls.
Stare at her sunken eyes.
The butterfly flies over my head.

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