i scroll through the contacts on my phone and realise there is no one i can call nobody i can text people ive had for 7 years maybe more their care for me has gone void and i can sense it can't you see? it's all superficial every conversation every look it is all superficial and i can blame anyone and anything for it but none of that will change the truth and none of it will gift me a new outcome
so now i sit alone in a void room and i wonder who will notice who will care when i am all but gone
for they will notice when i take my last breath but nobody notices the moments before not from afar
it hurts to look around and realise youve lost everyone you still love
Darling, do not tell me that you are more beautiful with those drawings on your skin. You've convinced yourself that they mean so much to you, and no one can even begin to understand, but I want you to know that the real beauty of an individual is more than simply skin deep. That is why the ink on your skin does not impress me. Everyone has stories and scars —I just choose not to wear mine on the outside.
This poem was written in 2016. Disclaimer: I love tattoos and scars. I have some of my own. :)
there are good souls in this world shrouded in weathered skin dry and cracked with scowls hung upon their face balancing on the scars of their brow just as there are bad souls in this world hiding under plush skin their faces adorned with kind eyes and cherry red lips made for kissing or spitting with rage
picture a gorgeous brunette with fair skin, bold eyebrows and her hair in a subtle yet nineteen-thirties style updo wearing a red chiffon summer dress the sun beats down on her as she glistens with light perspiration espresso in-hand cigarette in the other her pale soft skin no match for the thirty degree heat outside of this café she nonchalantly finds herself she is the epitome of carefree beauty
she kicked her lovers dog outside this morning exiling him to a six hour long toilet break after she "forgot" she had let him out before leaving to go shopping whilst her feller finished his shift because the dog is old and smelly and gets almost as much attention as her she even saw his pensioner neighbour struggling to take the bins out as she walked to her car and laughed rather than help because she always thought Mary was a no good Jew she even called her Mrs. Goldstein "Have a nice day Mrs. Goldstein." but Mary's surname is Cohen
picture this beautiful girl a siren leading good men astray she can get any man she wants and plucks only the finest most succulent I mean successful and well put together men from gardens of bachelors maturing in the hardships of city life she has plenty choice but she's fickle you see, her man has to be almost perfect for it to be as enjoyable as possible to watch his life unravel and unfold into everything he wanted it not to be
achievable only through toxic beauty her joy is venom soaked insides of lovers caught in a sultry web of lies, ambition and *** she loves a scandal or a text sent to the wrong person and she has everything to hide but does nothing to do so she gets by just fine being beautiful and sickening and sickeningly beautiful you know the sort she is a bad, bad girl
Queen Antonym of Superficial, I wish the pseudonym of your official name was just your name. Your anonymity is so much more to pity, as your antonyms are only pretty, and their anonymity is in their substance.
One day your looks will dissipate Like the steam from boiling water Gradually but inevitably Your physicality will falter
Superficiality Is joyous to an extent When you're young and exploring life But you can't always depend On materials and shallow links To bring you what a connection can When you're on your death bed Whether wealthy or simply meeting ends
Superficiality fades When all you crave is to hold a hand
Ones with fire in their eyes and gold in their chest
What happened to the precious pearls?
Who flowed like the wind and shone like the stars.
Did the ocean take away their sweet treasures?
And leave behind these empty shells
Whose shallow exterior can never measure
To the gem that lay within.
Did they ascend from the Earth?
And leave behind their shed skin
Whose plasticity cannot worth
The firmness that they held within.
Did the fire burn out their light?
And in their place plant seeds dud
Whose bitter fruits cannot incite
The fiery passion they fuelled.
Did the Earth swallow them whole?
And replace them with thorns
Which cannot fill the empty holes
That they left behind.
Or maybe it was the work of man
Who took those girls for granted
Moulded them to suit their wants
And bred them to the expectations they implanted.
When we we younger, we had no prejudice or judgement against one another but as we grew older, we began to separate and segregate and build a heirarchy based on stereotypes and social expectations, where once best friends were embarrassed to be seen talking to each other. What happened during those years of growth for us to turn out this way?
It basically goes like this at the point of birth onward, we are all seedlings encapsulated by a thick glass. when we are all very, very young our glass orb is our entire world we have not filled the glass just yet with out a passion, or roaring spirit. Many days will be spent stagnant inside our self absorbed orb looking at the mirror what you see is dependent on how far you are willing to look. Have you ever stopped your youth to look past yourself and see the pain others go through? To see there is more out there than this orb? sad to say some don't ever see past their own reflection have you ever really noticed yourself becoming aware? As we grow deep and develop its only natural to fill those void within ourselves our ambition becomes too big for our little world a destruction of self, but a creation of space. Yes, we can actually reach this potential! We can break our glass orbs! and then you can see this "Whole Big World" has all of us in it. Together. Humanity at its finest. But there are some, who are so mindless and content with this space we all share. For some they never see past the mirror. That is why you can meet someone at any point in their life whose still too conscious of themselves and have never cracked the glass of their own little world.
don't get caught up in what the world thinks is worth your time. You don't need to look pretty. You don't need to fall in line. What you need is to see past all that, because we have only so much time.