I hate who we are,
Fragile,
Fake,
Weak.
We feint Genuity,
All while bidding our time,
Ultimately betraying our very selves.
We plead sanctuary,
When in hardship and pain,
Only to turn our backs.,
On the blessing of healing.
Such impotence I feel,
When seeing myself,
My scars are visible,
And yet,
I find myself neglecting,
Taking for granted such health and vigor,
Such learning experiences,
Become shattered glass,
Beyond my very eyes,
With every passing day.
As delicate as a easily shattered cloth,
As brittle as a fallen mirror,
Turned into pieces.
We are our biggest down fall,
We are,
Beautiful imperfection,
I hate it... I hate it all.
YOU ARE READING
Abroad
PoetryThe purpose of this poetry book is one of defiance. Not to others, or anything in particular. It is against the war we wage internally, against ourselves every day. There is no bigger challenge in life than facing your thoughts, your true emotions...
