Archive for March, 2018


Curves

To be fat is to be shameful

To be fat means to feel awful

This is what I learned as a child.

.

My family loved me, and I know they tried

Tried to protect me, but they do not know how much I cried

Because whenever I have an ounce of confidence

Society retaliates with a pound of uncertainty.

.

My curves became my curse and I hated myself

I felt like an unwanted book tucked away on the shelf

I hated my curves.

.

There are nights I’d pick myself up

Saying that I am enough and I am loved

But most nights…..most nights are awful

.

I lie to myself sometimes

That if I love my curves enough

Society will accept them and I will no longer need to hide

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At the top of the world

Seeing the beauty

The wonder and marvel

Behold!

In My Mind

I imagined him

And in my mind he came to be

He was all and everything

He was not mine

He belonged to no one

But he gave his heart to me

That Time Of The Month

She curled up like a ball

Didn’t care of the world at all.

.

It hurt and made her cranky

Anxious and often angry.

.

She also gets so moody

All because it’s the time of month to be bloody.

.

Her cravings grow stronger

She can’t fight it any longer.

.

Chocolate is her comfort

It eases the discomfort.

.

She massages her aching abdomen to ease the pain

And wishes she could just stay in bed all day again.

Better, I

I try to better myself, I really do

But it always seems

I fail

I fall

Like I’m never going to be good enough

Dancing Clouds

I could have danced all night with the stars watching over me

But the clouds came by

I stopped and greeted them

They were a bit shy

Nonetheless they said “hi”

They too danced along

And I smiled

It was a wonderful number

The stars did agree

And that was how the clouds danced that night

For A While

I was fine for a while

I was okay for a while

It was all fine and dandy

But after a while,

Finally admitted I wasn’t as fine as I pretended to be

Inanimate

And though I loved the way he made me feel

It wasn’t true, it wasn’t real

It was all scripted

For he was after all like all my toys,

Inanimate

Plain

She was bland and a little bitter

She was practical and could be a little sweeter

She was laughter and medicine

She was all but plain

Dark

Deep

Frozen

Chaotic

Abyss

Silence

They feared all this. She thought she was too dark to handle

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Rishita Sanya

What has to happen will happen...

Dr. Eric Perry, PhD

Psychology to Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

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