We are like stalks of straw
Plain and simple
Ugly and understated
Ordinary
In every field you might pass
I am one of one million sisters
We are not special
But we can be made so
We can be spun
A stalk of straw falls to the floor
No longer plain ugly ordinary
A shimmering golden tear
Perfect
Beautiful
Special
Sent into the world
Changing hands
Being spent and used
All for perfection’s sake
Perfect beautiful special
Worth much
Yet worthless
We are cursed with our perfection
Cursed to remain so
We cannot go back
We are no longer our own
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryThis is a small collection of poetry I have written over the years. I would love some critiques if you have any!
