Dear humanity,
I’m beginning to lose my ability to see
the beauty I once saw in you.
-I wrote this for YOU.
BEAUTY in the
GROTESQUE.
Beauty on the ragged side.
FILTH.
The worse you use to describe what you see.
TRUTH.
The worse you use to describe your religion.
WRONG.
The word you use to describe anything you don’t believe.
BEAUTY.
The word you use to describe the bruises under my eyes.
I wish that I could open your eyes a little more.
Will you condemn me for what I see, what I believe?
Who I am?
FILTH.
The word I’d use to describe your hand on my flesh.
TRUTH.
The word I’d use to describe faiths.
WRONG.
The word I’d use to describe close mindedness.
BEAUTY.
The word I’d use to describe what I see.
Condemn me all you want when I try to find the
beauty in a grotesque world. To find inspiration in sorrow.
For we are all diamonds in the rough.
Breezing past
Though her light shines
And blinds
No one notices
No one see's the girl inside
The one who cries
Day and night
And wonders why
She catches no one's sight
She shivers
Though surrounded by the warmth
Of her family
She aches
Though recieving comfort
From her companions
Because no one see's
That beautiful girl
Who possibly
May change the world
With her words
With one pen
She just has to find
The beauty within
The beauty that blossoms
As she sings
Along to tunes and melodies
The beauty that blooms
When she writes
Those wonderful poems
Of her life
Yet she hides
That special notebook
Away from everyone's sight
She still has yet
To win the battle within herself
This war she must fight
And still today she remains invisble
Her soul fragile and translucent
Her trust fades away
Each breezy day
Her identity
Hidden in the wind
across bays coated daily
with people walking nearby
a boy sits below
the shades and the wind's beautiful blow
with eyes closed
he lays his head
on his fragile knees
that are covered with a pair of torn jeans...
he swims in his thoughts
that carry memories he fought...
tears begin to slide down his young face
as he tries to fight the lace
that kept him tied down
to sadness and its frown...
slowly, he lifts his head towards the sky
as fear strikes his cry
fright bottles up within
for the memories charge again...
his eyelids begin to separate
his pupils activate
as they focus
at the beauty of the clouds
at the beauty of the birds up high...
years passed...
the boy was never found...
years passed...
and the shade he sat below was cast
with red roses and white lilies
as they embraced the land's allies...
for it was news that carries
the boy's sad story
that ended in his death in a green valley...
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