the reality of the moment incited rage
only beautiful people are allowed to feel
only people who look like death can be dark
sunshine can’t have any depth
what a shallow world we live in
we are judged by how we look
people see me and think I’m dumb
well of course I am, I’m blonde
truth is I even cater to this thought
it’s easier than an argument
with a moron full of drought
my mind is full of imagination and darkness
I should cut my hair and dye it black
then I would be punk enough, to carry the abyss within
rolling with feeling I plumment into self hatred
to be accepted as is, is unthinkable
my looks should match my odd personality
all lines and angles
I’m a condrum and your guile disturbs
your callous hurts
you think yourself so beatiful
tell me what you’re doing here?
stalking my pages mocking my existence
haven’t you anything better to do?
Powerfully penned, Brenda. Excellent write about some of the things shallow thinking can lead to my friend. Strong message on this one. Nicely done as always. Appreciate you.
Damian
hello dearest Damian I try to never underestimate anyone… not all people are so smart as to pay attention to the small details… thank you graciously for feeling me on this ❤️
Personally, I like to keep them guessing, off balance. It proves that labels are only for clothing and food. We can look ethereal and be pure fire, or look like trouble with the spirit of an angel. Reality is, none of us are what we appear. Some of us just find value in that truth 🧡
Chère C.,
You ask about mocking. And nooo, (as far as this language carries me) I’m certainly not mocking you!
And you ask:
tell me what you’re doing here?
stalking my pages mocking my existence
haven’t you anything better to do?
Even if i would have something better to do.
I start the day with lots of water and writing two lyrics, plus a general idea for the music and more water.
After that i love to read what you have written.
After that i make tea, get my freshly baked bread out of the oven etc etc.
So you see, i love the way the day starts.
Loving to write. Loving to read your writes. In neutral state of mind.
Not mocking you and not after your bum.
I know i take this poem to literally.
And even more so: beatiful? You left the You out on purpose?
Or are you mocking me?
Warme greetings, Gus