Flowery perfume, floats on the sound,
Forcing its way out 
From behind your teeth.
The chemical that numbs our senses.  

Now dead to the world,
I sit alone in the dark,
As your frosted window kills the sun.
Let all my blood rush out my core,
Don't freeze us, piece by piece,
Thick and sluggish blood,
Dead. With an ice cold heart.

How noble, such a pretty face.
That mask of porcelain and lace.
Dressed high and mighty,
It's no wonder why you fall
So far.  Here on the ground,
No grass, no soft silk to cushion the blow.

We people, of dirt.
Must learn to turn what's brown to clay.
To cook from earth a bowl and plate.
We survive, and we sing away the night.
We make filthy our clothes, and lie in the sun.

Lie in the sun and not to a face,
Equivocate. You fill your words with grace.
Justify your lie, prevaricate.
Then *******, all over their face.

Catch your flies with your brown honey.
I'll burn away all the world's impurities,
With the fire in my words.
Nurse the damage, with 
Cold hard truth.
Build scar upon scar.
Become new. Evolve.

I am the tiles beneath your feet,
The air you breathe.
A door that opens and closes,
A laundry line left alone 
in the winter months.

I am not for you,
Nor are we for anyone else.
For I am a rock on a mountain side,
A fly in your soup.
Nothing more than the dust
Swept under a rug.
Nothing less, than the clouds
In an endless sky.

The life, running through our veins,
Runs through all we can see.
A bird, a stick, a metal disc.
We stand on a level plane.

As a chess piece,
I lose to my fellows.
For we are all pawns.
Or we are all queens.

And then I cut,
   Down into the heart.
         Into truth,
               Into pain,
I tore it all away.
Bled for mercy,
    For hope,
          For ecstasy.
One jagged line
     Marking the end of
                     My scene.
          In my last moments
        On stage,
     I weep for the blood
                 In all things.

One so beautiful, so smart, who can apply themself.
One who walks into a room,
Everyone smiles just for them, they're in control.
It's natural, without effort.  
They don't worry about disconnecting,
From the people around them.  
Don't have to over-analyze to get there,
Where they are.  
Don't have to write their feelings down
In some mock poetry, everyday, just to understand them.

Woe to me, to be
Compared to thee.
That I should be in competition with you.
A contest that I know I would lose
Again, and again, and again.

One who can make it all up as they go,
They're great and they know it.
One who has passions.  
They can worry that they didn't do their best
Even when they were above the rest,  
Because they are so above the rest.  
Because they're beautiful, they're smart, they're kind,
They're, naturally, not a *****.  
They're just a genuinely caring person.

Woe to me to feel
Compared to thee.
For the last thing I could be,
Is equal.  The last status I'd attain,
Is to be a tower by your side.

To be in contest with you,
To have to formally face this.  
This knowing that,
You are everything I want to be.  
Nothing that I can be.  
I have to face that I'm not as confident
As I was or thought I was.  
There's a chip in my wall.  
I just can't compare,
But I can't complain.  
I'm a pretty face.
  
So. Woe to me to have to see
All that you can be.
Who am I? Who am I to think,
To wish and hope that,
Maybe. Just maybe.
I could compare to thee.

because nothing is wrong.

                                  Absolutely nothing.