I think
it just starts
by you peeling
the layers
that have covered
that **** core of yours

I think
it ripples
rainbows and is visible
to those who see it

I think
not everyone is blessed
with the sight
to see the unseen

I think
you should careless
about everything else

I think
that this trait
is what makes you
yourself

I think
that you don't have
to fake it till you make it
because one day
things will get heated
and my lovely
your plastic act
will melt
uncovering
your inner "me"

There are the people who see me smile my plastic smile
And don't realize it's fake
Because its all they've ever seen.

There are people who see my plastic smile
And don't realize it's fake
Even though they've witnessed the smiles that reach my eyes.

There are people who see my plastic smile
And know that it's a fake
Because they've seen me when I'm happiest.

There are people who see my plastic smile
And ask if something is wrong
The problem is, I almost always lie.

In the time you were gone, I found myself filled with extra space. Nothing too obvious; not gaping holes in my stomach, nor chunks from my arm. Rather, they were minute cracks that ensnared me. These unwanted holes appeared at random; when someone spoke of sandwiches, I felt a soft ***** in the back of my mind. When I encountered a full moon, I felt a throb in the tips of my fingers. And sometimes, when I caught sight of a dollar bill, a pang of nostalgia bit me somewhere deep down in my chest. This discomfort never lasted long. These cracks never formed one excruciating pain – the kind that fully consumes, but diminishes over time like a large hole in a wall that will soon be filled in. These cracks I felt, this empty space, it affected me demurely. As some cracks were filled in, new ones spread forth. My disrepair did not increase nor decrease in the years to come, but rather, spread out to different locations, as I patched and filled along the way. My foundation as a person grew perpetually flawed, yet remained stable enough to stay upright. My eventual remedy was to simply remember this; I am a structure made of concrete. Wear me down, and all you get is more concrete. In this way, it was okay that you were gone. In this way, I discovered the weight of time and also, the art of saying goodbye.

Slowly, Patiently*  losing my mind
Screeching and LOUDLY  I'm going blind.
Believing,   I was so naive before
I won't trust anymore.
I waited on a dove of hope
to come and help me out this drag
To such extents did I dared scope...
But it was just a  **Paper Bag

@--\-----

She stood in mama's kitchen
at the table by the door.
Blue plastic roses
their vase broken on the floor.
He said he was leavin'
bought a bottle at the store...
Now daddy's gone
won't be commin' back no more.

(chorus)
Blue plastic roses
put together with some glue
Blue plastic roses
my oh my, how time done flew
Blue plastic roses
no longer bright, no longer new
Blue plastic rose
She's still waiting where they grew


She sits at the table
places set with cheap champagne.
He's not coming over
and she's alone again
Blue plastic roses
their petals cracked and stained
Placed on the TV
the memory remains.

(chorus)

The undertaker paid.
The gravedigger gone.
She left this rotten world
She wasn't all that strong.
Can we reverse the clock?
It just ticks on and on
The damage was too great
no way to right the wrong

Blue plastic roses
set down before her stone
Blue plastic roses
haphazard set upon the loam
Blue plastic roses
hear the wind in the pines groan
Blue plastic rose
now she's really all alone

Now shes really all alone.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/21/2015

Plastic smiles,
Plastic bodies,
Plastic lives,
Plastic words,
Fake
Fake
Fake
Fake,
Maybe its the latest trend,
Plastic smile to avoid  being questioned,
Plastic body in hope to be perfected,
Plastic lives to impress and draw attention,
Plastic words to try to fit into some section,
So here's the drill;
A fake smile hurts even more than a teardrop,
A fake body;doesn't change the inner you,and that's what's major
A fake lifestyle,only leaves you stressed out for no good reason,
Fake words,drain you and your conscience.
Be real,be you..there can never be another you,
You're beautiful/handsome;there can never be a more beautiful/handsome you.

Plastic bags are my super villain
and no I am not Aqua Man
I am Michael a normal male civilian
of some young-adult age,
whom is still willing to inconvenience himself.

Not so old, where holding multiple objects
sounds like an obstacle too acrobatic for the limbs to handle.
One can too many knock's off the balance of the elderly
and cast them off the trapeze of a sidewalk
into a net of asphalt, where being caught is a broken hip.

No that is not me, although it does remind me
of my grandma, because to her plastic bags are her life-savers.
It is a struggle to convince my grandma that I am a great trapezist
so we can leave these bags to their solitude
and finally defeat this enemy.

Although with plastic bags it is never so easy
they have plenty of goons who are willing to do the ***** work
forcing themselves upon us at any opportunity,
even those that don't make any sense, even for my grandma.

I Went to Best Buy and bought a brand new movie,"Unfriended"
and I got it for my grandma to watch, since she's a bit technophobic.
This movie will haunt her; for ghosts **** people through the internet.
What will haunt me is Destiny, the worker, handing me a plastic bag:
with a 13-ounce, smaller than a piece of paper Blu-Ray inside
...without even asking if I wanted a plastic bag.