u know what the worst thing about being a girl is… is when another girl asks u for a hair tie, but its ur last one, but u can’t say u don’t have one because she knows its on ur wrist, so u give it to her, and then she says “oh i’ll give it back!” knowing damn well she won’t, and u sit there sad because now you have to go buy another pack of hair ties that u know ur gonna lose by the end of the month
half of my poems
are warning people not to get close to me
and the other half
are begging them to come near.
I am not simple.
I am not the kind of person you fall in love with.
Please, love me.
This is perfect.