Wrote this almost 3 years ago in a reflective mood. It's not much, but it does speak for the way I was feeling at the time, and I know that many can relate to it. It's fairly self-explanatory, so I won't dilute it with a preface.
And you will see me there,
Eyes connected to ears
As always
Like in the days of the past
When I thought I was the
Happiest girl in the world.
Remedial treatment
For my worn little heart,
Bandaged and battered
And I flip the page
Because I don’t want
To see what’s written there.
Bounding out of the house
And up the tree,
Like a scampering creature
And not a girl,
I remember being fascinated
By the audience I saw
In the people that passed me on the street.
Brazen beaten blue eyes,
Characterized by flecks of blurry beauty,
Media-nurtured and alarmed
At the magic I found within myself.
Brown hair flowing from my head
As I looked in the mirror,
“Raw deal” I said, “raw deal.”
Don’t they always go for blondes?
No faith in my future of love,
I could not laugh.
My skinny limbs seemed pretty,
But my dark curls seemed wasteful.
Who would touch them? Like them?
Don’t they always go for blondes?
Hopeless little assailant, always beating on herself.
In later years the small breasts
Were just the icing on the cake.
And then, like a woman being
Cranked out of the tiny form of a girl,
I began to see that I was adequately recognized
And pleasantly perceived.
But it took too long.
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