What is perfect?
'having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.'
My instant reflex would say that
I am the epitome of perfection
I am not
Nobody is
We all strive to be the very personification of
Perfection
Yet in the end
That dream is shattered into millions of pieces
Of broken heart
All different shapes and sizes
All Perfect
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
I look out the lonely window, misted in the mornings cold. I see shadows, grey and formless, out there in the sleeping world.
Still sleeping, on this grey and quiet morn.
I wonder why I feel this way, why I hate the noisy, bustling day. Why I prefer instead, to stand here, alone and cold, and draw
pictures in the condensation, gathered from my steaming breath.
My melancholy is my oldest friend. She sits there in the corner, content to stare, wordlessly out the misted window,
and fidget with her hair.
I wonder why I have this life, why I
am not instead, a tree or rock or distant star, burning coldly, out in the great expanse.
Or even a flower, violet with the
shade of twilight, here only for a brief while, a second to The Infinite, and then gone, blown away like chaff upon an
Autumn wind.
I wish. For I am like the quiet breeze that
stirs the grasses, and raises the heads of sleeping flowers, in the cold of early dawn.
I am like a shallow pool, clear for those
with eyes to see, still as a translucent mirror, set upon those tiny waves.
People glance my way, and then continue, on
with their vibrant lives, so full of light and color, determining in a passing glance, the frailty of life I hold, no threat, no pain.
As easily extinguished as to blot a word of faded ink.
I sit here, my melancholy by my side, hand upon my shoulder. I wonder if it is not time, to seek some newer fresher place, like the violet in her time. I wonder if it is not best, to leave this faded world behind, and just....go.
To leave and seek a better clime.
For after all, what's a word of faded ink, too grey to read, so light as to be barely seen, but a thing, not far removed, from the clean expectancy of the white beneath.
Awaiting only a ready brush, and ink, near at hand.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Deep breath in
Deep breath out
Plaster a head-turning smile on your lips
Build up your perfect façade
I am strong
No you are not
I am fine
No you are not
I can handle it
No you cannot
Don't think about it
Think about it
Don't cry
Cry
I am-
no
you
are
NOT!
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
Yes, I know it is just a deck of cards
Yes, I know that Bicycle is just a brand of cards
Yes, I know all decks have 52 cards
4 suits, Hearts, Diamonds, Aces, Clubs
Yes, I know all cards are relatively the same
Yes, I am bawling like a baby because I will only use my Bicycle cards and can't find them
No,
I
Can't
Help
It
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Would you miss me?
Would you miss my laugh?
My smile?
My wit?
My beauty?
Would you even miss me at all?
I wonder...
I still wonder...
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
I hate you with a burning passion that will never ever go out.
You make me feel as if I have lost all control
You make me want to cry in the grave I have long since dug for myself
You make me feel I am worthless
I hate you
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
Here comes the Anxietea.
Best
Gulp
It
down.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
You first met
on the playground
She wanted to play
a game
You suggest
rock
paper
scissors
She abides
1
2
3
You throw rock
and she throws paper
She wins
Again and again you play
she wins
And you don't mind.
You see her there
standing
Not that girl anymore,
not the girl on the playground
But a more beautiful woman
and she holds a baby
Yours.
You admire her for a moment
before the squels and cries
She holds out a hand
rock
paper
scissors
You hold one out too
1
2
3
You throw rock
and she throws paper
She wins.
And you don't mind.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
SMILE a real smile
LAUGH a real laugh
LOVE a real lover
SING a real song
DANCE a real dance
LIVE a real life
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
I wish I wish I wish
I wish it were different
I wish it didn't happen to her
I wish it didn't end like this
I wish I wish I wish
I wish she didn't use the razor
I wish she didn't cut away the pain
I wish she didn't carve the evils into her flesh
I wish I wish I wish
I wish they didn't torture her with their words
I wish they didn't bury her in their anger
I wish they didn't destroy her soul
I wish I wish I wish
I wish they found her earlier
I wish she was saved
I wish she wasn't found with her arms slit open
I wish I wish I wish
I wish her blood hadn't completely drained out of her body
I wish in the midst of the blood the words 'I'm sorry' didn't exist
I wish it were different
I wish I wish I wish
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC