I saw her today
that ghost
that pale moonlit spirit
Who is she?
A dream?
Who could tell but those who walk among the dead?
Those who conjure her from their dull unextraodinary minds
those who seek an unreachable perfection
Do they know the devastating soul they have created?
Can the fathom the destruction that trails behind her upon the hearts of the ordinary
are they oblivious to how she lays waste to our aspirations
how she fills us with self loathing?
No
How could they
So high on the pedestal they built for themselves
made of the tears of dreamers and wishful thinkers
No
There they stand oblivious to the ordinary and undesirable.
They only look up
up to her
that pale, moonlit spirit
that dream
They applaud their work and pity those who can not be with her
even though they themselves are not
even though they themselves are ordinary
they, like us, could never walk among the dreams
like us cannot compare to her beauty
cannot be what she demands you to be
what she makes you need to be
Perfection.
*Hey guys! I haven't used this account in years but I'm combining the poetry I started on a new account with this one and I'm going to start here writing here again! I really got into slam poetry and the spoken word so that is the direction the following pieces were heading in so I hope you enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated, thanks a truck load for reading :)
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Little Poems
ПоэзияThe first handful are little poems but my newer content is mostly slam poetry. Hope you guys like them, please comment feedback, I do take it to heart.
