Be nice to people you love, be nice to people you hate.
Sometimes its hard, and sometimes its to late.
But, between all the being nice, they act like being yourself is a crime.
Pressure is like having rocks placed on your back.
They weight you down until you fall.
Do people tend to realize?
No.
My friend told me that I had to much belly fat so I sucked in until my stomach hurt and told that part of me to go away.
A boy told me I was ugly so I got my hair done and put on makeup and told that part of me to go away.
A classmate told me I was weird so I listened to Taylor Swift and wore crop tops and bikinis and told that part of me to go away.
They said I had changed, so I looked in the mirror and told myself to come back. But it wouldn't come back. I cried myself to sleep and begged but it wouldn't come back.
Stay up late at night, re-thinking my choices.
Get up early in the morning, to make myself look beautiful.
Get to school, pressure carries.
Get home, tear-stained eyes, from crying.
(This poem is based off of real events of the effect on me when I used to get while I get bullied.)
Answer your rate to my poems! Rate them each 1-10. (For some reason vent poems are the best topic for writing poems for me.)
