PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

STOP.

Just stop.

It's pathetic how you try.

You gonna dye your hair brown?

You gonna die if I die?

No negotiations.

No fucking 'maybe-so's',

I'm me and you're you,

I'm sorry you had to be told.

I know that being open minded,

Popular and cute,

Might seem like something you'd want,

But trust me it ain't you.

It isn't even me.

Stop eating what you see.

That's called gluttony, sweetheart.

It'll only make you fat,

And then you'll never get my size eight figure - will you?



STOP.

Just stop.

You're getting kind of obsessed,

I'm starting to kind of worry,

That you might think of me undressed.

Was that you last night?

Up against the glass?

I think you left your camera behind,

You dirty, perving sad-ass.

I'm really not as perfect,

As you might think, my dear,

I burp and scratch and smell,

I even cry and hate and fear.



Stop.

Just stop.

Before you think I'm perfection personified.

Because, my dear, it's time you realised...

I'm just a girl.

You're blind.