I hoped I'd look like the cusp of Autumn.
All sharp, crisp angles,
Cold, dark, beautiful,
Because as life faded it plastered itself with all that was beautiful and right and just,
I hoped that that could be me.
I thought I could be the end of Winter.
All curved, soft lines,
Warm, bright, beautiful,
Because as life began again it grew itself into everything that was beautiful, right and just,
I thought that could be me.
I perceived myself as late Spring,
All fine, delicate bands,
Hot, shining, beautiful,
Because life continued to grow itself into all that was beautiful, right and just,
I perceived that as me.
In reality I am the closing of Summer,
All jagged, crumbling silhouettes,
Close, fading unprepossessing,
Because as life leaves me I am all that is ugly and wrong and inequitable,
I realise that is me...
