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Lindsay Marie Aug 2014
You can't fix my body
I am not made of clay
Can't smooth away scars
Can't resculpt curves
Can't carve a smile on my face.

You can't fix my story
I am not a first draft
Can't erase years of abuse
Can't revise bad decisions
Can't add happily ever after.

You can't fix me
I am not a project
My body is marked by flaws
My story is laced with hurt
But *I am not broken.
Please review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

Let me know what you think, please.

Thanks in advance!
in a parenthetical existence
see the shadow of reality
through infinite lenses
distortions of distortions
the infinitude of humanity's
misunderstanding

pick a side for no reason
but why not?
then pierce strawman enemies
with low resolution image macros
which ignore the macrocosm
both sides return victorious
over their lifeless enemies
and await tomorrow's call

artists of ambiguity
find new ways
to draw the same lines
resculpt the truth
leaving nothing
but a monstrous mass
of homogeneity
favoring the profane
Zhavaed Haemaed May 2020
No one is making it out of here alive .. Not the obsessive compulsive hand washer who is picky lest he catches a germ no antibiotics can cure;
Not the pious cleric who prays righteously in hope for a safe haven in the next world;
Not the lovers on the  tree tops who are deluged knee deep in a hormonal immortality of old;
Not the millionaire who will do anything to have that transplant only to extend his sufferings in this world !
Not even the hedonistic party animals who have anyway accepted their fate.. No! None of us are making it out of here ..
We will cease to be ! Will be forgotten ! Our innards eaten by worms as we become fodder for the grass that grows on our graves .. Love your fate then .. Cherish this life .. this gift to think .. it wades out in to the ocean where we will all meet .. not as an individual .. but as a collective whole _ a consciousness this Earth has inherited and continue to resculpt '

Amor fati _🌹

— The End —