It isn't all that it's cracked up to be

School Competition Poem:: She Was, Now Is

She was like a rose;

Delicate yet enchanting. A luscious, silky blanket of colour, had tinged auburn hair and eyes almost gold with glistening flickers of green.

She was young and sweet, so heavenly suffocating you'd find yourself in a dream.

The most beautiful rose you'd ever seen.

But all roses have thorns. Miniscule daggers at the heart; the kind that shatters it so much that in the end, there is nothing else to break.

And she was broken.

She was like a story;

Foreshadowing exhilarating adventures, selling secrets and telling lies.

She was a mystery to most, but held the most exciting smile. A winner, of course.

Following a plot so exuberant, it was a fantasy.

Places unheard of, people unseen.

But all stories have a hidden truth. The truth no one wants to tell; no one wants to cut the yarn, else they ruin the tale. The dark concealing of a world so unknown, it was the equivalent to imaginary thoughts.

And she was the imagination in their heads.

She was like a photograph;

Through the lens of a camera, the beautiful art we see.

It wasn't changed to look desirable, but was the pure creation of just a click. Holding maybe memories, or of those yet to come. She was a still image with a box of exploding thoughts.

Some would say she was just the reflection of the world. But she was more than that.

Like a photograph; she carried both truths and lies, lurking in the shadows behind the big tree. She had a past, was the present, set the future.

But all photographs are just snippets of the real world. Better yet, fake.

They are just mere squares with a scene set, hinting the coming and bearing memories.

And she is just a memory.

It was tempting enough;

with a father who didn't want her, and a mother too sick to even say 'I love you',

The bathroom door creaking open, the drawer in the room filled with prescriptions.

It was tempting enough to leave her life behind.

She was sinking. Sinking fast. And she was near the bottom.

But if she was already that far, it was not a felony to carry on plunging.

________________________________________________________________________

Soooooooooo..........

This is a poem, part of the "Young Writers Spoken Word" completion that I am going to read in school leading after a recent competition called "Slambassadors".

I hope you understand what it means.

Literally.

I hope you know what I'm trying to say.

:)