Twisted times we live in, it is sad really;
people aspire to be just alike models
some get to live the dream and others
fall in gravestones of eating disorders.
New health crazes don't burn the hunger,
they set alight igniting the soul till nothing left
but broken bones, ashes scattered
across seas as pink as blood.
I watch the passerbys sip on poisons
contained in a bottle with promises
that this will bring in the gold,
bring in the women, bring in the fame,
but never discerning the devil
is on his stride, taking his jog just as
passerbys do. It is sad really,
to watch bones and dressed up animate
corpses walk across a stage filled with
estranged eyes. It is sad really,
so I try to spread my happiness as ashes in the wind and tell them they look good.
I don't know if I'm feeding their death
or savouring on their happiness, but
they grin back with gratitude and I
feel none the less grateful. Have I become their poison? I watch with careful eyes, and tell another;
you don't have to change the way you look,
but my words fall on deaf ears as they say, it's my choice.
Do I give them a path to walk,
or do I choose their path?
Who am I to dictate what they should do?
So I sit idle by in a little corner,
drinking my coffee, reading my book and
watching people exsanguinate themselves.
I sip on coffee and pass out happiness
where I can, and where I may not,
I sit idle by drinking coffee, reading books and watching people die.