Poetry is a language Of powerful thoughts and imagery, it can strike in the heart of man, it can shape lives and actions. Then can it not be used to enhance to the finder qualities of man? Rather than providing shallow enjoyment? And promoting the baser instincts? If I was a poet, I would like my words To compell the soul, To pursue the true pupose of existence. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to go on collecting my reward, Beyond this life....

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Withered Image

14-12-04

I’ve decided that
My reflection will never show
Who I am inside.*
The beast has triumphed over
The beauty in me.
The world sees only my ugliness- and shudders.

Prince Charming,
Don’t bother coming for Snow White.
Her death is no illusion.
Can’t you tell
When you look at me?

Will sleeping beauty ever awake?
I think she is content to lie
To escape the trials of this world,
No, the world did not fall asleep with her.
It stayed awake to speculate her weakness.
Is that why I cannot sleep?
My body lies, yet finds no relief?

I know not the reason,
But I know that I am
Unhappy at the world,
How it sees what it perceives to be me.

* I was still thinking about the song Reflection in Mulan.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

wow! i mean WOW!!!

Friday, July 29, 2005 7:07:00 PM

 

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