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Literature Text
I wish I had it all,
Wish I could be like you,
I wish everyone would admire
Every little thing I do
When you walk into a room,
Every head turns your way
But when I even try to speak,
No one hears a word I say
I'm off in the corner
Sitting by myself
Just a worthless tattered doll
Left on a dusty shelf
I'm only here
To make you look good
And I'd break your pretty face
If I could
Your perfect body,
Your long blonde hair,
The life you live,
Its isn't fair
Your tiny waist
And your DD's
I'm right infront of him
But you're all he sees
Your long legs, blue eyes,
And your perfect smile
When I think of you
The feeling's vile
But only because,
I know it's true...
He'll never look at me,
The way he looks at you...
~ashley carver
Wish I could be like you,
I wish everyone would admire
Every little thing I do
When you walk into a room,
Every head turns your way
But when I even try to speak,
No one hears a word I say
I'm off in the corner
Sitting by myself
Just a worthless tattered doll
Left on a dusty shelf
I'm only here
To make you look good
And I'd break your pretty face
If I could
Your perfect body,
Your long blonde hair,
The life you live,
Its isn't fair
Your tiny waist
And your DD's
I'm right infront of him
But you're all he sees
Your long legs, blue eyes,
And your perfect smile
When I think of you
The feeling's vile
But only because,
I know it's true...
He'll never look at me,
The way he looks at you...
~ashley carver
Literature
I'm ugly
I look in the mirror,
hate what I see.
I'm not beautiful,
I'm ugly as can be.
I hate the way my stomach looks,
I hate my face,
I hate my thighs,
I am a disgrace.
I want to cut,
My stomach until its flat.
I want to starve,
so I'm not fat.
I hate my hands,
I hate my hair,
I hate my legs,
I hate how I don't care.
Puke, puke,
Starve to death.
I will be beautiful,
even if its on my last breath.
I'm ugly, I'm ugly,
I'm worthless, I'm shit.
I look in the mirror,
I'm so ugly, I hate it.
I'm fat, I'm gross!
I'm useless, I want to die.
I stare into the mirror,
Until I want to cry.
Dig my fingers into my face,
cut my skin to
Literature
Confessions of a BPD sufferer
Whoever you are, if you ask me how I am during my lowest point,
Ill be compelled to assure you that Im fine,
Both by societys expectations and my own inability to open up.
In truth, I long to let you in, to somehow ease this pain, that overwhelms me to the point of sheer agony.
But where would that get either of us anyway?
Theres nothing you could ever do or say.
Theres no cure for this paradoxical, inescapable torment,
No matter how positive you say I must be.
I grasp for whatever remedy or opium this world offers,
Whether it be a shopping spree round my favourite stores
Or an invitation into your b
Suggested Collections
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© 2004 - 2024 ash-interrupted
Comments126
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I know this feeling too, and it's definitely not a nice one.
The rhythm you have going in this is really fantastic. The only thing I could suggest is to perhaps punctuate with periods to make things flow a little better/quicker. Most of the time it's not an issue but it really tripped me up and broke the rhythm here:
And I'd break your pretty face
If I could
Your perfect body,
It took me a few seconds to figure this out. At first I thought it should read "If I could have / your perfect body," but then realised that "If I could" went with the previous line.
But that's a really minor and nitpicky issue in an otherwise great piece!
The rhythm you have going in this is really fantastic. The only thing I could suggest is to perhaps punctuate with periods to make things flow a little better/quicker. Most of the time it's not an issue but it really tripped me up and broke the rhythm here:
And I'd break your pretty face
If I could
Your perfect body,
It took me a few seconds to figure this out. At first I thought it should read "If I could have / your perfect body," but then realised that "If I could" went with the previous line.
But that's a really minor and nitpicky issue in an otherwise great piece!