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The nail that sticks out the most gets hammered the hardest.



The girl that dares to be different has to pay for her indivuality every single day.



You think it is easy to be the black sheep? Think again.

I stand out, because it is what I was born to do.



I am the one that cries every night.



I am the one that is abused, because her parents don't know what to do with her.



I am the one that is stared at- you'd think people never learned it was rude.



Every day I am the one who is constantly reminded of her imperfections.



The one that hides, because she doesn't know what people will do to her if they knew the truth.



Everyone outside thinks of me as confident- right in her own skin.

It is a mask.



My dirty little secrets that explode in different directions eventually.



This is my life. I know it will improve soon, but nothing is soon enough anymore.



So, in the end, I come out looking like a rusty, crooked nail.

COMMENTS

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LordWolf
23:43 Apr 26 2010

i disagree....

that iron that is in that rusty crooked nail has been transformed...



now it is steel...stronger than it first was, able to take more punishment...give out more pain...

she can be a weapon if she chooses...or a helper



she is strong...and has yet to realize just how strong.

~W~

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POST COMMENT

happy chills travel up my spine as her blood drips down.

My pure white dress is quickly stained with her life.



My teacher's pride is shown on his face as my sweet comes to embrace me.

He stops her, and stalks across the room himself until he is but a foot in front of me.



"what are your thoughts" he asks, no sense of question on his face...

He already knows.



I don't respond, simply stare at them both until my eyes grow tired.

this is my life. All mine.



You can't take these crimson marks from my body.

You may try to "fix" me, but you never will. I am home now. I wouldn't trade this feeling for the world.



This is my reality, as well as my fantasy.



This is my privelege, as well as my curse.



This is my life, as well as my death.



My children will be proud of me, just as my father is.



He will teach me how to grow and make the most out of myself.



My mother will watch me closely, always there to remind me of my past, my present, and my future.



My sister will always be ready for my mistakes- to cover them in her sweet embraces.



My brothers will always waite for me, as patient as the spirits.



These souls are represented by the marks.

These marks make me who I am today.



The crimson marks of my life.

COMMENTS

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LordWolf
03:15 Apr 28 2010

i am certain your family has the highest possible pride in you!

~W~

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POST COMMENT

She had danced to the beat, as well as wept with it.

The beat held her pulse as she flowed through the spirit of those whom had danced before her own tired feet.



Her family watched with praise, ready with open arms for when she collapsed.

The power of the steps always overwhelmed her.

Her gods watched, pleased with what their serveant had to offer.



She would tell you she only danced for herself, but her heart tells a different story.



She danced for her father, the only man whom she would give her soul for. He only made her grow- never shooting her down. His eyes told her a million stories as he watched her perform.



She danced for her sister- a bright, free spirit. The dance gave her the power to protect that spirit. It was so easy to amaze her... she always gave more praise than what was deserved.



She danced for the gods. She entertained them, leaping and twirling to the beats they had created for her dark tribute. It was an honor to serve them in any means. It was a privelege to do so by dancing.



A small piece did dance for herself. It was tiny, and mostly went unnoticed.

But this was her passion. She would never trade it for anything else.

This was her dark destiny.

It was up to her to fulfill it with a drum beat stamped to her heart.