I don't know who she is. Those hollow eyes,
Staring straight back at me.
They seem to be emotionless, cold windows
To a soul-less creature.
Those pitch-black spheres, unblinking in their sockets, send chills
Down my spine. Below them, a perfect nose and
Cupid's Bow, a depiction of terrible beauty, flawless
Yet giving out an aura of tyranny.
She moves with perfection; her every step graceful, sashaying
Through the room like an elegant peacock.
Her language is sophisticated; her words precise, sweet and
Soothing like a jug of hot honey.
Her poise is unmatched; her manners confident, commanding and
Mesmerising like a powerful ruler.
I don't know who she is. We share
The same face, the same voice, the same smile.
She lives to please her peers, to
Stand out in the spotlight. Her only care
Is being popular, whatever the price may be. She doesn't care,
Even though she has become materialistic, cold and
Self centered.
She has stolen my appearance, my features
Imprinted on her face. Yet they are so cold and expressionless.
She has stolen my mind, my thoughts
Replaced with hers, no longer mine.
She has stolen my heart, my emotions
Covered by her indifference, coldness and selfishness.
I am fading, washed away
By all the worldly desires. She is taking my place,
Bit by bit, day by day. Soon I will be but a memory...
A memory...a memory....
Gone for eternity.
YOU ARE READING
Those Days
PoésieInnocence is bliss. I used to wish I'd grow up sooner. I thought growing up was all about getting taller and having more freedom. Just a few years ago, the only problems I had to worry about were bad grades and broken friendship. Even though I thoug...
