ninestars

I pick at my face

on a daily basis.

Rub my fingers over

my acne scars and oily skin,

every unwanted mark

that supposedly makes 

me beautiful.

I try to convince myself

Restrain the roaring voices 

to prevent the foreseeable fights 

filled with rage and hatred 

that could permanently appall 

the people of this world. 

Lips must sculpt more smiles, 

I come here to

express myself

semi-anonymously,

but freely

and happily.

My laptop is

bombarded with

tabs, one of which

is YWP.

Always.

I may not

write a poem