Poetry is turning out to be a very cathartic medium, I should do this more often.
Set the Mood
Who is that over there,
Looking so sweet with skin so fair?
I yearn to touch thee with gentle caress,
To rest my head on your supple breasts.
When you speak your voice is sweet,
Like the gentle sounds of baby’s feet.
Entice me more with your disguise,
Fill my ears with all of your lies.
Call out to me so you can have more,
Call to me ‘til your throat is sore.
Hang on to me for your dear life,
Let none bring attention to your strife.
Oh look how they come on bended knee,
Upon your pedestal they look and see.
See a frail image deluded and shattered,
A pity how your fragile ego is battered.
Perhaps turn from the image you covet,
In all your attempts can’t rise above it.
Projecting an image you wish to hide,
Prison of the self in which you reside.
Yet here you are a sad, pitiful fool,
Letting your actions make you a tool.
Here I am just on the other side,
Hurt by yours, and my own pride.
You know, I am always crying and whining about the bad things in the world; things like performative cruelty tend to get to me sometimes. Yet, at the same time I would cry out, I must also celebrate it for the brain food that it is. Truly, it all provides for the material I, and others, continue to write about. Such a beautiful world full of duality!