| » Poem: Are Pain & Torture Your Best Friends? |
Are Pain & Torture Your Best Friends?
written by MissMatchClash02:09 AM 1/27/05Haven’t you done something, where you intentionally wanted to see…
To see, maybe if you would die...
To see if you could die…
To see whether those sayings were true…
Have you ever put metal in the microwave hoping for it to explode…
Only to open it after one second has passed.
And you tell yourself, maybe next time...
Maybe next time…
Have you ever tried to overdose on pills…
I don’t mean a measely three pills, but 20… or the whole bottle…
And then you find yourself surrounded by brilliantly white light.
Then you see them, staring at you with worry artistically sketched into their being.
Have you ever said to yourself this is it.
Or asked why pain & torture are your best friends...
Or why all you do is cry…
Or why, in order to breathe, must you feel pain, see pain, and live pain…
If not, why are you listening to me babble…
You think your perfect...
You think all that matters is the perfect smile, hair, teeth, clothes, and all that other superficial bullshit of this world.
Perfect, hah!
I spit on you perfection.
Because there is no perfect!
If there were, people wouldn’t die from needles.
Babies wouldn’t be born blanketed in blood.
If there truly was perfectionism,
Girls wouldn’t have mastered the art of gracefully putting their delicate fingers down their scorched throats.
Silicone wouldn’t be thought of as beautiful, whether in the breast or calf.
Boys wouldn’t strive to transform their already beautiful bodies into that of machines.
Perfect, hah!
I spit on you perfectionism.
You’re not real, and you’ll never be real.
Perfect is the plague that’s destroying us all.
That girl clothed in black, with painting sketched into her skin and black lipstick is beautiful.
That boy that you call geek who wears glasses is beautiful.
That kid who thought those pills would end a life that was far from perfect,
Is beautiful.
In the real world, people kill their selves.
In the real world, people die.
In the real world, boys and girls or men and women are raped.
In the real world, nobody is perfect.
Although in the real world, I smile.
In the real world, you smile.
In the real word, our faces adapt wrinkles from the laughter that corrupts us.
In the real world, all that glitters isn’t gold.
So for one second, let us all stop.
Stop and look at this place we call earth.
With, for once, no comparison to fantasy,
But with open eyes of what truly is beautiful.
by: me *Ijeoma* |
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
some of this is from my experiences, and others are from friends of mine or just stuff i've heard. but it happens. and hopefully this shit can change. but my point is that there's no perfection, and that we are the beautiful ones....
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This Poem has been viewed 509 times
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| » Comments / Feedback | by Xxrazorkissz (1-27-2005 - 02:20 AM)
by death_of_night (1-27-2005 - 03:35 AM)
| Awsome!! i loved it i could actually feel you words inside me...i understand you comletely i have done most of those things and i have wondered about some of them too. |
by GODs_sad_angel005522 (1-28-2005 - 02:05 AM)
| wow.....wow is all my soul can think of....you touched my soul in a way most never think of....wow....thank you. |
by xXinvaderZIMchick17Xx (2-4-2005 - 04:58 PM)
| Wow....its touching....ive felt the same way before......like last night....anyways..>AWSOME POEM |
by PIAID (2-8-2005 - 11:03 AM)
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