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Viseract Aug 2015
Whence you look down
Upon your work with a slight frown
All I see
Is beauty
Flourishing in all its form

Through all your creative ways
Is perfection, once lost now found
Be it voice, hand and eye
This art wears a glittering crown

Concentration sketches itself
Like you sketch what you love
Upon your face,
Is all the grace
Blessed from high above

I admit a spot of jealousy
Runs a trickle of pain right through me
Whenever I see
This art done better than me

In voice, eye and hand
As beauty takes its final form
This preferred art that is your brand
Or with perfect voice you perform

A better art than mine,
Taken with a flourishing finish
For you, Georgia. If you know me, you know which Georgia I'm talking about. Jealousy is a strong feeling
Lifeisajoke Jun 2014
Of all there people you could be with.
You choose me.

Are you that unlucky?
Are you crazy?

Your not ugly, or dumb.

Why be with me?
Plain, old, boring me.
Hell your a lot of fun!

So many others, 7 billion others.
Why me?
Amour de Monet May 2014
Did I tell you?

I’m kind of quiet… no, really, I am. You should see me around people I don’t know…. Ha, yes, I know you don’t believe me… I talk my socks off around you. But, you’re different. You already know the contents of me… I mean, you may not have read every page in detail, but you get the rough draft. Not many people get that. Man, what a stuck up ***** they say… Miss goody two shoes is too good for us… Not all of us are rich like you they say. Oh, how I wish I was any of those things…it wouldn’t sting when they mistook me for anything but the plains, but instead they see skylines and frosted mountains. I am not as complex, I am not as breathtaking, I am not such a climb. It’s funny. i have it together - it appears from the outside looking in. On the inside, I’m so tired. I know you know this - but they don’t. They don’t see 14 hour days, 98 hour weeks, 5,784 hour years… of on the go, here you can have my time, my peace, my arms, my legs, my soul. They don’t see that. They don’t see me helping the family when they need food that week..and me not eating. They don’t see my sore back, my restless nights, or the loneliness that follows endless hours. I’m the one missing out… and they think I am better than them. If they only knew how much I wished I could be more like them and less like me…. how they are the morning skies… and I am merely a spectacle to their bold colors. They’re outspoken, care free, sociable, …extroverted. I wouldn’t dare say a word. I know even then they wouldn’t get me… not like you do. I just sit back - quietly, watching, listening, absorbing…an abused sponge from one too many passes on the burnt pan. Ha, that’s me. Still giving my all - in whatever pieces are left of me, trying to shine the world. Silly I am. I’m ready to get out of here… or find myself again, and stop smothering my heart. It’s an out of control fire and my day to day has become the dirt. I think if I exhale in a week you may just see smoke pouring from my lungs… I’m burning out. Can you tell?

— The End —