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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. |