11 years on Earth and
I am not good enough.
My short frizzy hair makes it
Hard to tell my gender
And it doesn't help that my wardrobe
Consists of nothing but hoodies, jeans, and rubber bracelets.
11 years old
And I am confused and
Not good enough.

13 years on Earth and
I am not good enough.
There was a boy,
Older,
Who told me lies that I am enough
And when I didn't put out,
He told me the truth.
"Useless."
I guess he could tell I'm a girl after all.
13 years old
And I am useless and
Not good enough.

14 years on Earth and
I am not good enough.
I suffocate myself in smoke
And drown in alcohol.
Somehow it masks pain
And blurs my vision Enough
To not notice the new stretch marks on my stomach.
I fall in love with a boy who will
Never
Love me back.
Because I am 14 years old
And unlovable.
I am not good enough.

16 years on Earth and
Maybe I am good enough.
Maybe. But probably not.
An older boy tells me I'm beautiful
And I somewhat believe it
Even though his lips are stained
With lies.
But he leaves, because they all leave.
And the demon in my head
Stays forever.
16 years old
And I'm probably not good enough.

17 years on Earth
And I am good enough.
I don't need older boys to tell me
About my beauty,
And I don't need blurred vision to ignore
Those stretch marks that came from really good f***ing pasta.
I am more than a number on a scale,
Or the length of my hair,
Or the range of clothes that fill my wardrobe,
Or being told I'm pretty by lying boys.
17 years old
And I am more than enough.