Eyes move across it
Wishing as they dance
That they were lasers
Erasing everything
Everything that makes
Rivers on the face
And scars on the soul
Lasers that erase
little girl's hate
little boy's tears
Lasers that silent the voices
Too...
Not enough...
Needs...
More of...
Ugly.
Just to be able to look it away
The constant image of
Perfection
That Haunts minds
And little eyes
Just
Watching doesn't work
tries to move it away
hands shaping
What others consider beauty
Craving in skin
Molding like clay
Cut a little off there
Add a little bit here
Hundreds of humans
All fighting to be the best artist
For
Hunders of humans that
Fight to be the worst judges
Hands fail at the making of their own
"Beauty"
Not enough
Here
Not enough
There
Looks aren't lasers
Body isn't clay
Eyes continue to burn
Hands continue to shape
As
Everything stares back at them
In that fucking
Mirror.
They grew to hate.
Inspiration: self hate and society
YOU ARE READING
One Chance Encounters With Some Words
PoetryPoems. About life. About chance. About pain. About me. And about every word in between *Completed* P.s These poems are of me as an angsty middle schooler. I do hope you enjoy them, but I also apologize about the mild cringe that could occur. P.p.s...
