Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The muscled, runner’s legs Extending from under clothes I Hardly remember buying and When did I place those Ink spots upon my skin When did I grow my hair Till it stretched past these Shoulders I used to hate And can I be sure that My soul resides within This image, in her bold Sunglasses and lipsticks and With more makeup upon Her face then I ever Remember learning All her jewels and flowers Are confusing and so New to me even though Supposedly inside her frame My essence is churning I look and wonder when I became such an enigma, I am some people’s idea of Beauty, and other’s may Find me stereotypical What is this body shown Through a camera lens, is it Really mine as they profess And now as I analyse I feel so miserable I am unrecognisable to my Own eyes, the mirror is Baffling to these irises that Search for familiarity And I long to feel at home Inside this corpse I reside Supposedly, or maybe just Confusedly, I move its limbs I manipulate it and try To reconcile my visual show Yet in a photograph I do Struggle to pick out myself Whatever I expect, these eyes So empty are not it and neither Is this uncertain smile This breaking hair and the way I pose to pretend I’m Absolutely fine, thankyou, I don’t expect it and really I just don’t know why.
0
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Unfamiliarity.
The muscled, runner’s legs Extending from under clothes I Hardly remember buying and When did I place those Ink spots upon my skin When did I grow my hair Till it stretched past these Shoulders I used to hate And can I be sure that My soul resides within This image, in her bold Sunglasses and lipsticks and With more makeup upon Her face then I ever Remember learning All her jewels and flowers Are confusing and so New to me even though Supposedly inside her frame My essence is churning I look and wonder when I became such an enigma, I am some people’s idea of Beauty, and other’s may Find me stereotypical What is this body shown Through a camera lens, is it Really mine as they profess And now as I analyse I feel so miserable I am unrecognisable to my Own eyes, the mirror is Baffling to these irises that Search for familiarity And I long to feel at home Inside this corpse I reside Supposedly, or maybe just Confusedly, I move its limbs I manipulate it and try To reconcile my visual show Yet in a photograph I do Struggle to pick out myself Whatever I expect, these eyes So empty are not it and neither Is this uncertain smile This breaking hair and the way I pose to pretend I’m Absolutely fine, thankyou, I don’t expect it and really I just don’t know why.
tara-india
Written by
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem