Feels like I've faded in to the back ground
I got so used of being behind the senses
Jaded, the fact inner peace is still unfound
Still now I'm trying to live my lost dreams
Now looking at my reflection in the mirror
Is one that just seems so old and so grey
And on closer inspection, it's even dimmer
My story told from what was then yesterday
Now a blank canvas where was once colour
We all have a flaw, not saying I was a portrait
But anxious, comparing myself to every other
As what I once saw I really liked but now hate
Trying to keep up the visage I’m out of remedy’s
And still though the confidence what one lacks
Stuck with in this collage, a sea of memories
But no brush will ever paint over them cracks
Many creams and posions used over the years
So I'm told beauty’s in the eye of the beholder
Though so many emotions worries and fears
Carrying this huge weight up on my shoulder
Those textures that were once rich in youth
Now withered with time that’s passed me by
Mixtures of every emotion now it's like struth
Looking back at me is that the same guy?
This was already on here but just felt neede tweeking a little bit
trying to put in bettter form or context add a little humour
less trival than before but still anever ending battle ith ones self
reflection originaly called dismorphia
somthing delt with sinse my teens though through my twenties went out my way to ahnge myself a lot
gets harder as you get older though i think
NOTE UPDATED ABIT DON KNOW IF SHPOULD CHANGE STYLE OF WRITING??????
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inspierby by all the cool soup poets sinse last januray PD LARUA REBBECA ECT XXXXXX
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WRITTEN BY MYSELF DAVIDSCOTT JUNE JULY 2013,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
*This poem is intended to be read centre aligned*
See
a
penny,
pick it up,
And all the day
you’ll have good luck,
Or use it to purchase private thoughts,
An evening of thrills and spills and nasty shocks,
Or maybe even give it away, But you’re left
feeling cheaper, And debts due to pay,
You know the worst guilt
isn’t the lies you told
your friends,
Or your mother
with her trusting eyes,
It’s the lies you told yourself,
Reality blurs,
You’re
drunk
on
denial,
Stumbling, fumbling,
Through rotting records of an aching brain,
A walking disaster, A walking cliché,
She taught you to laugh
at the absurd,
So you laugh
at yourself,
And the
ugliness dulls,
But the fear’s still left,
Hold it down,
Bind it up,
Bury it
deep,
It’s
not
healthy,
But it’s easy,
Pray it heals itself
while you
sleep,
And
you’re
so tired
of being tired,
The drugs don’t help,
They were placebos anyway,
Oh how they stick in your throat,
The pills are piling up, Making mountains
in your stomach, Filling up your pipe,
Full to bursting, Or that’s how
you account for the pain
at least,
Purge
it with your pen,
The paper’s heavy
with word
vomit,
Cry it,
Sweat it,
Bleed it out,
Your temple lies unchanged,
Frozen bones and hardened vessels,
A veritable statue, With a pretty face and granite for guts,
They said religion is for the dying and the desperate,
Well we’re all dying anyway,
I’m desperate
for the truth,
Clinging
onto
saving graces,
And slowly losing grip,
Hard to guess how bad
you’re broken,
It’s been
years
since you were whole,
Watch
them bask
in your phantom light,
Beautiful mind or beautiful soul –
They say it’s in the eye of the beholder,
But I’m decomposing inside out,
You can’t measure what
you can’t see,
Hold your
judgement,
shut your mouth,
So turn away from love,
Affection, empathy,
Wound’s salt,
Because you know
that they can’t change it,
And you know
it’s all your
fault.