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Portrait of an American Teenager © Leah Laughing carelessy bright as the sun her heart is loving everyone giving selflessly. Model daughter, model student. Forced away from everything familiar roughly shoved into difference loneliness... so scared. Who will be her friend now? Why doesn't she talk? Why is she crying, we buy her everything. Ungrateful. Get out of bed self-pity isn't allowed smile, for chrissakes. But clean your room first. You give me so much trouble I give you everything except I'm busy I don't have time right now my legs are open too wide go to someone else. "People don't like me" "I hate my face" Shut-up. What the hell is the matter with you? Abuse me more like the song says 'cause I like it can I get you this? Would you like this? Would you could you like me? I'm not bad. It's ok I know it was an accident it won't happen again just like the last time. Speaking of accidents so was I. I'll come. Just for you. I ignore what she says she hates me but your friends like me right? That wasn't snickering I heard behind my back. It wasn't ridicule you want me here, I know you do. Supressed hidden shamefully frightened of anything real. Wall brick surrounding her heart, pain is too surreal. Former loved ones doubting can she even feel? "Heartless selfish bitch!" is all that still reaches her ears. Embracing everything ugly black darkness in an attempt to push away dimpled thighs, bulbous features, tear-filled eyes, mutilated skin, a heart that's split even more than her hair. The essence of everything that the media says a teenager shouldn't be, but always is. Black, black, black darkness too suffocating to see her own light. Trusting once, twice, three times is the charm that lifted the arm, with the hand that reached for the knife clutched it so tight tight, tightly turning everything upside down. Pain was pleasure, blood was soothing, welted flesh temporary bandage, to wear like a badge. Blackened lungs, filled with smoke. When was the last time she had a meal? Stony eyes, carefully blank, revealing nothing except maybe here and there a flicker of a hate that doesn't even resemble human emotion. Branded. A stranger. What can make a devil, feel human again? What can make a bitterness too strong to even be in the same room with, taste sweet like honey again? The same thing that will unexpectedly but so predictably turn it all around again and make it hurt even worse than before. I'm just a little girl... Top of page Webmaster: wulff@ratatosk.net |