A perfectly linear shape painted in gold
Is what you see
Through Instagram pictures Facebook posts Snapchat videos
The tacit life
I lead in the virtual stairway
I am living the life!
So you say
You painted my life in the most shimmering color
Turn on every light in the room to make it brighter
Gazing with admiration
Most of the time
Seduced by the lure of the blue light dependency
Turning this perfect lie into some meditation
And make it my definition
An image I’ve built to cover the within
A perfect fragmented me I post on social media
A habit I borrow for social gatherings
A behavior forced into me
For the sake of society!
An illusion so fragile made out of eggshell
A shell covering the true essence of ME
Uncovering myself for the world to see
The egg wall and make believes shattering
To life unpredictable burdens
That perfect golden shell cannot bare life’s hurdles
Holding something beautiful that doesn’t curdle
I am more of what you see
More of what I let you believe
More of society’s standards
More of you
More of me
I contained beauty and imperfections
I contained colors and bricks
Strengths and weaknesses
Enough to suck in all life’s miseries
And to also reflect confidence and vulnerabilities
I am not just one color
I am every shades
Every hues that follow the changes
I am the intense
From the lightest to the darkest
I am in nature in art in paintings
I am every northern lights dancing to my own ballet
Don’t just paint me with your own palettes
Crack me open
And see what’s inside
For there you will see
My truest colors
Her body is not an empty canvas,
it's a hilly mountain, uneven and lopsided
some parts portruding -- sometimes soft,
It's the waves of the sea, ebb and flow, changing
One time she is okay with what she sees,
the next she wants nothing more but to get rid
of the excess, of the parts that don't please her
Her body is crossed with scars, all the things
she doesn't like highlighted in white,
She's not happy
Fumbling through a drawer my fingers brush against a familiar plastic object.
I grasp onto the tiny memory card and pluck it from the hiding place.
The card slides into the computer port with a satisfying click.
A window pops up with long lost folders.
All of the files unrecognizable, with icons indistinguishable from the rest.
I slide the cursor across the screen.
Hovering over a random folder.
As fast as I clicked the folder, my cursor flew towards the red “X”.
The folder closed.
My heart raced.
It had been a year.
One long year.
A face I had long tried to erase from my mind was now burned into its forefront.
My fingers pull out the drive.
I throw it into the trash.
Sadness fills my heart.
Those features of a ghost were now reborn in my mind.
Am I forever haunted?
I know I shouldn't judge a book by
its cover man.
But half these books have me wonderin.
And if we weren't supposed to judge than why are people dying in the streets?
"I can't breath" yeah guys that really happend
All because his cover was blackened!
Yet a mother got off for killing her babbies!
This shit has me in a daze see
Her cover was innocent and thats all the judge saw
Didn't care to look inside for an answer at all!
And parents teach you not to judge
Except " dont get to close to that homless man. Hes probably on drugs!"
When really that man on the ground he defended our "Great" country
Now hes left in the gutter with the thought "no one will touch me"
All because you let his cover device you.
Preaching to the Millennials that covers reveal true
But rapisit and murderers they look the same
As a friendly neighbor
Or a fucking lame
And now we grow up thinking our cover matters
"Why is my cover bigger, why can it be flatter?"
"My corners are to sharp"
"That covers' illustration is to much, haha, and they call that shit art!"
And we dress up
And we dress down
And try to look interesting
Now there's no story
Something is missing
We've cared so much about judging one another
That all we have left is an empty cover.
To my body that I desperately wanted to disappear
That I tried to shrink
That I yearned to transform into an impossible weight
To my body that I refused to call home
That I hated more than I used to hate the color yellow
That I wanted to get rid of
To my body that made me feel like I was never enough
That kept me alive, even though I wanted so badly for it to die
That I have covered in scars and tattoos in hopes of making it more beautiful
To my body that I am trying to kill—
I am sorry.
I am sorry for not loving you as I now love the color yellow
I am sorry for trying to make you disappear
I am sorry for making you scarred
I am sorry for the pain I have put you through
I am sorry for the tears you have shed over how you appeared in the mirror
I am sorry for trying to bury you away deep into the earth rather than helping you thrive on the face of it
I am sorry for waiting this long to say--I am sorry.
Finding love for you
Is the hardest thing I've ever had to do
You are not what I want
But I am stuck with you
I know in order to survive
I'll have to comfortable
Because without your support
I will have no vessel
I have plans for my future
And they unfortunately involve you
So I will continue to nourish and build
and not look for something new
As I reflect on my life
at such a tender age
I realise one reason why
I have always been
unhappy with who I am.
I have not been honest with myself.
I have been telling myself no truth -
just sweet lies to make me blind
and silence by ears.
In this world, we tend to craft an
image. One of our own dreams
One of perfection that becomes
our own tragedy.
One to wear like armour but
there are chinks in the armour
of our souls.
And...it's all society needs to
tear us apart.
I spend so much time crafting
this image of who I want to be.
What I want you to see and only see.
What I want you to hear and only hear.
The image of a somebody who I know
will leave a mark in the sands of time...
But I never want to be myself...
It's the same with all of us, I guess...
To walk in a human world that loses humanity
every second of every damn day.
Forcing us to be someone who isn't us
just to be seen...
I've spent so long feeling invisible
when, in truth, I should feel invincible.
I am a human.
I have been labelled as having no humanity.
I acknowledge that I want to be somebody,
but not myself.
I know that now...
I've been telling myself all but one truth...
By Arcassin Burnham
Crystals covering my heart like the chocolate around
A peanut in my simple request to find out who I am or
Where I am for I am nothing but a talking pile of shiny
Rocks filled with so much purpose in my state of mind
Or maybe perhaps in God's beautiful eyes I am just as
Perfect as his loyal companions in the clouds but
Simply let the flower sprout and I am in the
Kingdom serving from what I can gather is the queen of
All of us embracing her facial features like a lost puppy
Looking for its master entertaining each and every piece
Of loyalty til I'm tired making decisions for my life that
Is endured quickly,
No time to sit and cry little soldier and your mother's got
List of chores for you to confront in your life,
Don't ignore it for even a second,
Such a buzz kill..
Do you know I can see you
tucking your fears
behind your ears
as you watch me watching you?
Do you feel your eyes on you,
when I show you the magic
you've stashed away
in all my corners and edges?
Are you moved
when I watch you move
side to side,
from the shores of one insecurity
Because I do.
and I do not think anyone so ornately flawed
must strive so hard
to lock up every shard
behind every ray of light
you get from me.
Pick up your falling smile,
because I can see two hands
reach out for the parts of you
that complete you.
I watch two eyes
watching every joy
that etches itself
in your skin.
I can hear you dreaming
without realising that
it lives in you.
And it lives in me.