The Things I Leave Unsaid

38. In the Metaphorical Mirror

Determination and strength
In one who is unknown,
But admired just so readily;
Hides before her cover's blown.

Talent, Light, and Beauty,
they go walking hand in hand
With girl who's in possession of
them, unaware of fans.

In the best way of course,
she's creative, clever, smart;
And the brilliance she creates,
Each imperfect works of art.

Does she realize?
Does she care?
How many may look up to her
For how she's always there?

To lend a hand, perhaps a shoulder,
Eyes downcast, hiding their smolder from children (happy, healthy) who looked up at her with love.

Poor Angel finally
broke her shoulder.
Once warm, now
tone's growing colder.

In haste, she glued shut pretty eyes
So as not forced to see what resides
in her (a monster hiding inside).

But a peak in the metaphorical mirror,
Could help her see again.

The metaphorical mirror
only shows a person's self,
How they truly appear to others
Rather than only themself.

The beauty underneath is
pristine as a soft white rose.
But Angel bit her lip in fear
As Mirror tried to disclose.

A single tear ran down her cheek.
Why could no one convince,
This perfectly-imperfect angel,
Yes, OF COURSE she would be
missed?

How could she forget the thousands
Screaming out her name,
Excited and in love
with all her beauty and her fame?

See this perfect angel
who so many held so dear,
Had a dark obsession
with what made her shed that tear.

That tear represented
all the things she thought about,
All of her little worries,
Wrapped in panicked, hasty doubt.

So please, dear God, remember
Each the words I tell you here,
That even those admired so
Can lose themselves to fear.

And the path of Rich and Famous
Isn't always quite so clear.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/n: I haven't published a poem in a little while, I'll update more now. it doesn't take long to write them; they come easily.

This author's note is actually way bigger than the actual poem but it does hold more deep poetic type of questions and writing and explanations. Just a heads up...

I know what triggered this poem out of me and I'll gladly tell you all but first, I have a few things to say>

I think, actually no, I know that everyone feels this sometimes, no matter who you are. This represents everyone I think. Every human feels that single tear in their life. And I think we idolize these famous, known, pedestal people too much, not realizing that they're human too.

Rich and Famous doesn't have to just mean it literally, it could mean an older sibling you put up on a pedestal or a best friend or your worst enemy. I said rich and famous almost ironically, just meaning someone to be idolized, loved for nothing more than their cover. And what many people forget is that there is always another layer, no matter how much you peel a person. We're all onions, remember that if nothing else, alright?

So anyway, what made me think of literal rich and famous people and what caused this poem is how my mother and I had been speaking about different bands. I love both Green Day and The Beatles with passion but I was trying to think of a band that didn't do drugs and was still one of those huge famous bands and I couldn't.

So I asked my mom why she thought that was and what she said made me see the world just a bit differently. It shifted just a bit for me.

She said that people always think things like,' gee, if I won the lottery or if I was a pop star or a genius, everything would be great and I'd be completely and utter happy and satisfied.' But humans can't get full satisfaction and happiness from just money and fame and nothing will ever be perfect, and that makes them turn to drugs and other things as they slowly realize this. It's like a slap to the face because most of us spend our whole lives dreaming about what I like to call, our Potential Self. Its who we want ourselves to be, us at our full potential. It kills them when they realize that even with their biggest dream having come true, that empty feeling is still there and they will never reach their Potential Self because being perfect is impossible. Life isn't perfect. We keep saying that but it never really sinks in.

NO ONE'S LIFE IS PERFECT. I WILL PROMISE YOU THAT ON MY OWN LIFE.

And that's where this came from.

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On another note, GO READ "BREAKING THE BAD BOY" by lady-kaddy. Its one of the best books ever written on Wattpad. Trust me on that. And it's far less cliche than it sounds, she just used to suck at naming her books lol. I had her on my mind for this poem too, she's a close friend of mine who I met after making her the current book cover.

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Ps. Sorry for the long a/n, I'm in a deep, talkative mood.

~Dustin the Great