am i blind?
why can i never see
the beauty in imperfections?
why do i only learn
to hate myself with every flaw?
they tell me
to "love the way you are,"
but i don't get that; why
adore the broken image
of what once was?
i am a crime
these hands aren't brushes
they wreak havoc onto papers
there is no art, no sentimentality
just words that make no sense
in the end, i've achieved
bullshit; people only smile and poke
for the pity and i'm screaming
because i'm not a prodigy;
just a dreamer
and something stirs within me;
a conflict: a sacred war between
the inside. and i struggle
to even breathe every gasp of air
i shut my ears in shame
i close my eyes, pretend
that it gets even better when
it never does; the breathing only
worstens day after day;
i'm lost.
and my one regret:
this doesn't even rhyme.
close my eyes
count to three...
one push, then i'm free
YOU ARE READING
It (#Wattys2016)
Poetry| 1st Place for Summer Sun Awards (Beginner's Firsts) | | 2nd Place for the Pinpoint Awards | | Finalist for the 2016 Awards | It matters not what people think regarding things you believe strongly in. Perhaps, it may even help to even spread...
