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Poem

Somehow,
Those empty eyes
 staring back through the glass
They just seem to laugh
At all that I am.
And they seem to see
The person I wish I could be

But somewhere,
Beyond the reflection 
Is a soul
Who doesn't know 
Who, even, they could be
If their head was filled with dreams
Instead of physical fantasies 
That tells them they're ugly
Never will be pretty enough
Never be good enough
Just a horrible catastrophe 
An endless rhapsody 
A drying, dead
Never-again-to-be beautiful city 
though Drowning in a hurricane 
Of it's very own tears
Sinking in an ocean
Of similar sorrow 
Of which no one knows
Convinced she is alone
And must not stray from such a narrative 
Forever stuck in this imperative 
In this day which holds all of it's resentment
Close to it's core
And won't relent it

Even when it is known what is being done
"All the more fun!" it cries
All the more fun...
Even when it is clear
The depression has won
The green keeps rolling as the salty seas keep flowing
The harsh greed seeping into the sea
Convincing Wants to be Needs
Perfect and clear, 
But still no one wants to be near
The river in which my soul has died
Laid to rest, now, that so hated body
Finally finding a home in the tide
With the many before
And surely the many after
The tomb of dead laughter 
Feeding on walking disasters
Like I 
And many more
Who let themselves be sold 
On the idea of perfection 
As the building block to affection
That never felt deserved
Look now, what we've learned 
Look, now,
 the end we've earned

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