#prideandprejudice
An approach is a sentiment, not a calling of divine.
An opinion is valid only and only when one doesn't step out of line.
A figment of thought, a pristine smile—
Words are mere thoughts until one makes it worthwhile.
A question appears though? Let me put in some light.
Why do people make it a hot topic when it's not even their life?
Why make comments on what a person should do
If you're not a part of their day-to-day view?
Why act all Saint-like while you belittle them, causing strife?
You lack the basic mannerisms, yet have the audacity to lecture them on rights.
You play the role of a perfectionist, yet you've got so much to hide.
You judge everybody while your own personality has nothing that shines.
Yet, you have the gall to ridicule someone who spent their entire life
Confined to a few meters of land, day and night.
Complaining they don’t provide the family with basic things—
But look at how much they work every day, without help from anyone.
Why does that not come to light, huh?
Making a mockery of them, manipulating others with your lies—
When they did nothing wrong, yet they have to put on a brave face and take it all in,
So that the family stays, despite the brutal conditions they are in.
Not like you’ll ever understand the genuine good in plain sight.
Because of people like you, they can't even take a break, much less a vacation with loved ones.
You're always there to critique their work for a fun laugh—what a dreadful sight.
Yet the people only believe what you say.
Such is this era, such is this life.
You play victim, and the victim gets the dice.
Once again, they're thrown on the same pedestal of hate and loathe.
But now they've lost the sense of fright,
For this is yet another day in their life.
A tragic tale that is very much alive,
A tale to which this right-preaching society turns a blind eye—
A tale of Pride & Prejudice.
-Asher Graves
May 7, 2025
May 7, 2025 at 9:44 AM UTC
There's a feeling stronger than to loathe
Especially when your hand is intertwined with his
And he gazes upon the pearls in your hair
Your high brow, your blank stare
And maybe even the cut of your dress,
The lace it holds, the earring that sways as you dance
You know it, the way he looks at you
And if you will deny it, simply keep in mind
How he lets his fingers linger onto yours,
And despite the sharpness of your snark and wit
Maybe you'll catch yourself looking
His high brow, his blank stare
His eyes like pools of honey
And you'll know, there is a feeling stronger than to loathe.
Jan 20, 2022
Jan 20, 2022 at 1:45 AM UTC
Suffocated by a web of a world that does not understand:
Words in my throat, caught like little flies struggling against the weave,
Emotions suppressed deep, encased in the widow's cocoon --
I am silenced, hidden under the surface.
Like a star, hope trickles down soft as a weak creak stream.
Light but dull, a beacon in an entire world of darkness;
Little ones walking will be the ones to watch it grow strong,
But I, a little fly, will die waiting for a light that is not for me.
This web is a cold and lonely prison,
I pray that, in this blackness, I am not alone
As I wait for more hearts to light the spark
That might burn away this web of a cage.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
We are the only ones in the room.
Your eyes seep into me like honey dripping from a beehive.
We pass by each other and your fiery gaze draws me closer.
I take in a sharp breath, forgetting the commotion around us.
Nobody else is in the ballroom.
Just us until the music stops.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC