it was elegant
patience in beauty personified
if you love it, it will surely love you back
grasp at its thorns
it's affections a disguise for pain
cut through the vanity
and it's just a disgusting facade
like every illusion you see
if it's made of exceptional beauty
your chances at life slim
you're too ugly to bare
without the filters and smoke and mirrors
voracious in self-absorption
you'll grow just a shell
empty like a rose
guaranteed hell
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
