Marks To Roots
Marks to Roots
Strange feeling in the stomach,
it feels like a sword has crushed in me at my teen hood.
nobody told me things gone be change this quick,
like my body is no more mine.
just a glance and that pre teen body is at its end.
as a almost post teen kid,
i feel terrible for that twelve year old me.
staring at the mirror for the longest time,
caressing her stomach for the twelfth number of time.
the scars, the marks and the wounds,
were & are still there. at it's own place.
never ever could forgot those terrible feelings,
about how they're looking at me.
yeah, im no more like yesterday,
maybe a little less stressful than tomorrow,
but I'm here all stuck.
stuck at that strange body & fats,
that feels terrible to touch, to strange to feel, to awkward to acknowledge & to unacceptable to accept.
my body totally changed,
maybe in years those marks would turn to roots.
roots would grow its own lil plant,
hanging some memorable pathetic nightmares,
that's exciting to recall every night.
~k ♡
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More Posts from Dumbas-writes
"and what's your favorite thing about him?"
She smiled "Kisses."
"Kiss?"
"His favorite thing about me is the bridge of my nose. And he took care of his favorite thing by kissing on the bridge of my nose everytime we say bye. I adore this thing about him the most." She blushed.
maybe it's just the little things.
the flaws within a flower.
It's always been me tiptoeing to kiss you and not you bend down to kiss me.
Now, it doesn't feels different.
Now, all those untouched part of my skin is being touched by some unknown hands.
Now, even when any known hand touches those known part of skin it feels unknown.