Blank Poem

Blank

She was an image of beauty
The singing bird
A freshly bloomed flower
Her eyes full of earnest
Her heart pure
Everything she should be

When opening the envelope
Peeling back the skin
She is a broken one
A wounded soul
Full of festering disappointments
She feels rotten inside

A bit of highlights here
A contour of color there
Shadows and lines
An ever changing disguise
She is a constant chameleon

Her foe is a shiny surface
It mocks her with its presence
Stalking her at every turn
Blue eyes and her enemy meet
Truth is hard to digest

She quickly glances away fearful
Barely knowing herself
Silently she whispers
Who am I supposed to be?
Telepathically her twin answers
You are undone
Just a sketch
Of the portrait you could be.

imageWritten by me and for me.

Copyright. Phoenix Rises.

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