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Roman Four Feb 4
She told me I was perfect.
I fell instantaneously.
So tell me why did I hesitate,
every time
she told me
she
loved
me.
Roman Four Feb 4
I shall not bend
I shall not fold
I mustn't give under the gaze
of their watch.
For in my eyes this is weak.
however.
It is okay if I fall and crack,
It is okay if I break and snap.
Yet these orbed windows of my soul,
I mustn't let flood.
I may shake and tremble,
in anguish,
in frustration,
but this dam of my lids
shall not break.
Am I really so pathetic that I can barely hold my tears? It makes me feel so weak to cry in front of others. But who am I to perceive myself from the outside.
Roman Four Feb 4
They fed their mind with black and white,
Monotone and the same.
Forbidding gay reds and blues,
greens and yellows,
and all the bountiful colors.
To them,
Love is simple.
As predictable as day and night.
To them,
Love is complex.
As divided as the colors on a prism.
Love is creatively more complex and colorful than the simple ways we see in popular media. Society's has spoon fed to us through social platform's unrealistic expectations of romance.
Roman Four Mar 9
I stare into my reflection,
peering into the soul
of which only can be seen
In blue mirrors and media screens.
The empty personality stares,
looking back at me.
A created caricature,
Blankly examining its unaltered true form.
The glass,
A line between worlds
where truth is filtered and blurred.
Altered.
Bearing no semblance,
No longer me.
That creature that sits
Behind it on the other side,
a guise that I cannot recognize.
It is I
Who created this character
for all else to examine.
To lock away
Unmasked, misshapen
Scrutinized pieces of myself.
The person in the mirror,
they know nothing of how to live,
Sitting unknowing of the world.
A stranger to grievances and struggle,
friend to glass and screens.
I've created a character for all to view.
But when I go to admire,
I no longer see myself.
Blank eyes stare back,
My reflection stares at me.
Haven't we all caved to show the world a made up versions of ourselves? We see what we want to see in the mirror in order to make ourselves feel better. We alter our photos before posting them on social media. Our made up lives and personas bear no resemblance of who we truly are in the flesh.
Roman Four Feb 4
She is a puppet.
She was her own puppeteer.
But her strings,
harshly wrestled from her,
until she is wholly compliant.
Society laughs,
as she dances their string pulling dance.
Her movement not her own,
a dance against her own accord.
Aren't we all victims to the same foolish dance? A dance at which we laugh at others as they fall for the same trick, but yet we cannot escape ourselves?

— The End —