Body {Prose Vol. 1}✔

62nd Poem: Life Isn't Fair

A poem of where my head was yesterday.

I hate my life, 

I'm unhappy here.

I can never be lithe, 

but I look like a deer.

My legs are too long,

tripping me up,

my head,

too small,

unable to wear caps.

My mouth,

too smart,

my mind,

too dark,

my eyes,

too dull,

my life,

too long.

Here.

This place called "home."

Home they say.

Home I live,

home I breathe,

home I sleep,

home I cry,

home I'm stuck.

I cannot leave.

How could I?

I must fight the invader

to my home,

the person making

me feel so alone.

I feel so small,

so powerless,

so...

not myself.

But, what am I?

A spoiled brat?

How can I be spoiled when

in fact,

I have no phone,