Now the mask was gone. She looked young and pretty…
As we walked we made plans…. We were ourselves again—
restless, scheming, poised for flight.
–TOBIAS WOLFF, This Boy's Life
–
INNER CITY STORIES
The voices alI around me
The names I was called
The laughs and the giggles
Oh, how I heard it all
The parade of spit balls
The tripping and spitting
With me constantly wondering
What did I do so wrong?
What if I was simply pretty?
I wondered how that would change things
I was too hard on myself
I saw myself dying
But the worst part was
I didn't want any comforting
The nights of panic attacks
The nights of terror
Crying out to God
To make me feel better
Nothing was happening
I soon gave up trying
Till one night
When I finally stopped crying
The pain was so sharp
I just couldn't take it
Maybe I’d take a razor
And transform into a canvas
Covered with red paint
Soon realizing I just couldn't stop
I fell into a great darkness
Where my all sorrows had dropped
Bouncing off the walls constantly
Calling to me, haunting me
No one even noticed
I was just a happy young girl
Anxious to please
Willing to do anything
Little did they know
How badly I wanted to be pretty