Soft sharp lies and hard truths
Allow me to tell you of someone, in a nutshell, it's about a girl.
If this were a normal poem I'd talk about her features, her eyes, her hair, her laugh, her skin, etc
But lucky for me and the rest of the world she's no ordinary girl, thus this poem won't be ordinary.
Instead I'll talk about what's inside.
She's known for giving too much, too much of her heart, too much of her soul, too much of her time. And even after things fell apart still she gave. She questioned, she worried, because she vowed to love a prince turned monster, and though he gave up nowhere in the terms and conditions of her loyalty was there an expiration date. She gave so damn much, her tears on quiet nights can still be heard flooding the garden of dead flowers she endlessly apologizes to. Saying she's not.....not good enough, kind enough, beautiful enough, understanding enough, stable enough, deserving enough.
As far as Good...I can tell you she's great at being her own villain. Even though the title is undeserved.
As far as Kind, she has sympathy for all devils but her own.
Beautiful, well that's easy, fireworks, candles, embers, the world is full of brights things surrounded by darkness.
It's an underwhelming understatement to say that she under-stands all the impressive and admiral things about her.
Stability, that I must conceed to, for I don't believe she's meant to live on solid ground, the stars are made for the sky after all. Some of us call them falling but I like to believe they're flying.
Deserving, she deserves so damn much, yet she withholds that which comforts with kindness in favor of that which stings.
If only she could see herself...if only she'd emerge from her shell maybe she'd see, ideally we could all be waiting with a mirror for her
If this were a normal poem I'd talk about her features, her eyes, her hair, her laugh, her skin, etc
But lucky for me and the rest of the world she's no ordinary girl, thus this poem won't be ordinary.
Instead I'll talk about what's inside.
She's known for giving too much, too much of her heart, too much of her soul, too much of her time. And even after things fell apart still she gave. She questioned, she worried, because she vowed to love a prince turned monster, and though he gave up nowhere in the terms and conditions of her loyalty was there an expiration date. She gave so damn much, her tears on quiet nights can still be heard flooding the garden of dead flowers she endlessly apologizes to. Saying she's not.....not good enough, kind enough, beautiful enough, understanding enough, stable enough, deserving enough.
As far as Good...I can tell you she's great at being her own villain. Even though the title is undeserved.
As far as Kind, she has sympathy for all devils but her own.
Beautiful, well that's easy, fireworks, candles, embers, the world is full of brights things surrounded by darkness.
It's an underwhelming understatement to say that she under-stands all the impressive and admiral things about her.
Stability, that I must conceed to, for I don't believe she's meant to live on solid ground, the stars are made for the sky after all. Some of us call them falling but I like to believe they're flying.
Deserving, she deserves so damn much, yet she withholds that which comforts with kindness in favor of that which stings.
If only she could see herself...if only she'd emerge from her shell maybe she'd see, ideally we could all be waiting with a mirror for her
31-35, M
