2. A Definitive (Poetry)

-Fifty Two-

Eyes Like Bruises:

Pull the scabs from my iris's once more

When I come to terms with the idea that my faith in people 

Is something I deplore.

Scrape the blind from my own pupils in spite of the fact

That my heart wants to believe in the good of people

Fighting my pride to swallow the angst that

Might just eat me whole if I let it do so. 

But let my eyes be clean once more, blinded by a light of my own doing. 

Created a plagiarised image of something that wasn't for my viewing,

Always placing people on pedestals expecting the best 

When deep down it's my own fault for expecting it to be anything less

Than the stupidity and carelessness of people unkind

Always hoping for the best even after I find

A mirage of fake and nice words dressed to be

Something pretty to lead girls into the depths of unclean

Regrets I hold close until it swallows and lets go

Scrape my eyes clean. 

Understanding that you were a phantom of an idea created by hope

And vulnerability. 

I expect less, knowing people can be cruel

But still hold on to kindness knowing that damaged people still

Have the ability to feel wrong even after wrong doing

I hope nothing but the best for a future not of my viewing. 

Eyes scraped clean once more, pull my pupils apart I implore

To see only truth, always truth. 

~J.K.M.