Hold on to the image
Of the reflection they seeMirrored in countless eyes
They may as well be liesFor the energy I spend
On preserving my outsideI don't know what to trust
The ice, the sky, a mirageOnly myself, I can replay
My past, my present, a filmOf grey and brown hues
Stained with blood, butEach is their own judge
Of the life they have livedTo love, to hate, to be loved
By oneself is the questionNevermind the answer
That comes from othersI may be hypocrisy
But truth cannot be smothered.
YOU ARE READING
THOUGHTLESS │✔️
PoetryThe words The petals On a flower that Thrives by appearance Is only Will merely Be a flimsy Taste of what's inside Why price By the eyes The symmetry Of flawed beauty As though As most Are weighed by Thoughtless ideals For those Four arrows A sma...