I am a sculptor.
An artist.
My masterpiece? Myself.

Every curve, layer of paint,
Every shadow or exposed face,

All cultivated. Planned.
Incorporating all I know
And that which I do not know

Yet.

But you have only a picture.
A photo.
An image from just one angle.

And all that you recognise is
A flat
Two dimensional
Processed scrap of film.

I live in my bubble, so safe from the world
Elastic! Resilient! To all abuse hurled
Not a care nor a fear that my life may unfurl.

So safe from the world, I live in my bubble
Happy and insulated - I don't know of trouble
But when my walls burst I'm standing on rubble.

Who am I? I ask.
I look at my reflection,
and ask, Who are you?

Does Lady Fate guide my hand?
My eyes?
My mind?
My Soul?

And when I try to stray from her,
she brings
me back
on goal?

Does Destiny watch my life?
and guide
me through
bad times?

Does she know it will work out?
As she
and Fate
will guide

But will I come out
A diamond? Or mis-shapen?
When pressure's relieved

Together
           Forever.
                                         True
                                               Love.
                                                                   Beautiful.
                                                                                             Caring.
                                                                                                                    Us.
No. You are my **seven deadly sins.

Dirt. Under my nails.
Collected through my mistakes.
Cant scrub off my past.

.                  Beautiful
                  lOvely
   ­               iDeal
           prettY

        exquisIte
      handsoMe
            ­      fAir
      stunninG
            gorgEous

What if I was wrong?
What if I made a mistake?
What if I lost you?

Aiming for the stars,
I end up in the atmosphere.
Where the oxygen is thin
and all I can do is try to keep breathing.

Diving to the unknown,
I end up in the murky depths.
Where the pressure is immense
and all I can do is try not to implode.

Climbing for the peak,
I end up in a rocky crag.
Where every turn could hurt me
and all i can to is try not to get cut.

What if it's  not real?
What if it turns out a lie?
What if... its perfect?

Maybe its just me,
but I hardly ever see poems about happiness

Is it because the bad times outweigh the good?
or do they outshine them?

I lie here
time ticks by me
the Earth continues to spin.

If I stay
they keep going
- people lives, without me in.

If I move
I can join them
become a part of it all.

If I don't
will they notice?
To stay means a shorter fall.

I'm beautiful
You've told me all evening
and will tell me all night
but will I still be beautiful
*in the morning?

Expensive leather shoes oevr painted toenails.
Long legs, muscular, toned.
Rounded apple shaped *** below an (almost) flat belly,
a gleaming jewel in the center.
None could call large, but appropriate *******
under the face - which takes the cake!
Thick eyeliner,
plumped lips,
painted face,
hidden imperfections.
Is this the image of society?
or is this me?

Death grins
A wide, cracked, malevolent grin
as I laugh in his face.
He knows I am not
laughing in his face.
I feel his cold, steely hand gripping my spine.
It turns to ice.
My heart stops.
Time stands still.
Noone, but me and death.
frozen in fear
and lost in his dead, sunken eyes.

I walk with my head down
trying not to be seen
But I can feel them staring
their eyes boring into the back of my head
as I continue down the empty street
alone