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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1969054
A poem on my daily struggle with self-esteem and finding it hard to push past it all.
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words will forever change me.

I love to perform on stage,
but I find it hard to keep calm,
for it was on a stage
someone told me
I wasn't beautiful enough to be there.

I love to sing,
but I find it hard to be vocal,
for it was in my car
someone told me
my harmony sounded weird.

I love my hair,
but I find it hard to let it fall past my shoulders,
for it was in my classroom
someone told me
it made my arms look like beast hair,

I love to give,
but I find it hard to bless people,
for it was during a party
someone told me
they didn't want what I gave them, to my face

I love to dress myself,
but I find it hard to dress how I want,
for it was in my own bedroom
someone told me
they didn't like my favorite outfit

I find it hard to hear
all of these things,
and to pretend they don't affect me,
for sticks and stones
would be better
than the words that haunt me
forever.
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