i used to hate flowers 

and dirt under my nails

wet hair

and bruises on my knees

i used to loathe nonfiction books

warm showers, mint toothpaste

and poetry like this

too many knots and hoops and black holes

the words like an abyss

i used to grab my sword and charge

at the slightest inclination

used to cut myself to pieces 

and build myself a new kind of damnation

i used to write short stories

never to be finished; about mountains

and death, and endings with a bow

and i don’t regret a second

every fumbling mistake

and rambling intro

i used to want to grow my hair out

all the way down to my back

put it in braids and tie it up

so shitty boys would like me

and i would never have to like them back

i used to want to die my hair blonde

and buy expensive things

like the girls in the movies

i used to daydream about it

used to climb up on the roof with a ladder

as high as i could go

used to run down the street barefoot

until my low-rise jeans were soaked

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I just turned sixteen and have been feeling just a little bit sentimental, in between having an absolute life crisis. I really like this poem and I hope you like it too.