She tears up the pages,
Just as her eyes tear as well.
Everything she's done,
It means nothing.
But that's alright.
All the tears, all the anger,
It won't do anything.
So again and again,
She'll stand again.
Wipe away the tears,
And put on a Sasha-Fierce smile.
She'll grin and laugh all at the right times,
Tell us all those puns,
Making sure we are always laughing and smiling, and most inportantly,
Okay.
Even as she crumbles like a cookie,
Sweet and loveable.
But I swear to you,
There's too much to her,
No matter how many times we try to understand her,
She'll always slip away right when we think we got her.
Alone but in the most crowded room there is.
Metallica will play,
Children of Bodom swims around her mind,
Everything about her is its own music.
So distinct,
So catchy,
I don't think I'll ever be able to get it out of my head anytime soon.
Was thinking of my friend, aïcha. She's an amazing friend. The first in a couple poems. Will do one for each of my friends.
Fly me to the moon
By frank sinatra