She is Me.

She was not a particularly put-together girl. She had short, chewed nails painted with chipped black polish. She had a few mediocre tattoos staining her fingers, her forearms, her back. She had striking tan lines from laying on a towel in her front yard for hours on end.

Her makeup, always smudged underneath her eyes.

Her bright white smile, just a little crooked. 

Her left hand, scribbled with notes and reminders that she’ll never complete.

The jewel in her nose ring had fallen out months earlier, around the time she probably should have last had her highlights done.

She had a pretty face, a not so pretty body, and god awful feet.

Her head full of stories.

A heart full of pain.

A soul full of ice.

She could take straight pulls until she could feel the fire burning in her belly. 

She could take hit after hit until her mind filled with air. 

She could kiss and kiss and kiss until her lips went numb.

Anything to mask the torturous war raging inside of her.

She always took one step forward and two steps back. She filled her plate full and then dumped it all out. She relied too much on other people and not enough on the right ones.

She believed herself to be beautiful, to be common, to be crazy.

She was perfectly imperfect and couldn't understand why no one wanted her this way.

Author's Note

Honest comments and constructive criticism always welcome!

Reviews

[A. Amos]

Her head full of stories.
A heart full of pain.
A soul full of ice.

Wonderful write and above three lines were honest pure and amazing...