~=°•°=~
It's only ever rare
That someone gets to see me
For who I really am
And what I'm capable of doing
The extremities of my pain
The indescribable fear of loneliness
The incomprehensible feeling of being imperceptible
The dejectful digressing plots of my life
My skepticism towards the idea of joy
My bland palette of words that sends distaste
My unproductive moping, pining, and sulking
My ignorance towards the variegated wings of love
It's only ever rare
For someone to see me fully
All bared and stripped of clothing and of masks
To see who I am in raw flesh
Joints protuberant on my skin
Dry patches irritated and lined with scratches
Cracked, chapped lips that expel only whispers of breaths
Ribs collapsing in, poking at my fainting heart
But that's not the all there is to see
My body is like a zoo--the biggest ever
So much to see, so much to learn
So much to scrutinize, so much to judge
Each personality and imperfection caged
Trained to adapt to the change you want
Bred to fit your judgements
Raised to obey your desires
My body is a painting auction--each flaw, an attraction--hung on the wall,
I am the famous artist that painted those compositions
They're for you to see, but never grasp your hands on
They're for you to look at and be mesmerized, or to scrutinize and laugh
An art gallery of my nightly reverie
Towards voluntary accumulation of my frustrations
I rest on the comforting company of loneliness
And finally, slumber with the only warmth: my tears that caress my cheeks.
Yes, I do cut lines on my wrists
Until they color in rose and
It's a canvas of my anguish
How else am I supposed to relieve myself?
How else am I supposed to convince myself that I belong to society?
~=°•°=~
YOU ARE READING
Poem Addiction
Poetry"A poet's greatest strength is his words; his greatest weakness is his emotions; his greatest addiction is his paper that is the world he lives in." -Eskay Kitz-
