Beautiful

November 2, 2010
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I’m running away from the sickening borders of my world
Only to find myself back in its grasp.
In a different location,
In a different form.
It takes hold of me,
Back in its palm like a helpless cub,
Panting,
Coughing,
Choking,
Gasping for the last breaths of air,
Just to get out.
Let me breathe.
Let me out.

The flashing neon lights overwhelm my weak brittle mind,
My eyesight blurry,
Distorted.
Where am I?

The vivid billboards above me portray
The beautiful aesthetic life each person desires for.
So eye-pleasing, yet so fragile, insecure.

Slow down.
I need to catch my breath.
Every nerve ending sending signals to my body
That I need to breathe.

“No Turns.”
Such irony that this metal sign depicts.
There are turns in our lives.
Forks in the road,
Paths not walked on.
We choose to take only one path.
Path to beauty,
Path to simply exist in this fast paced world.

Tell me,
When these high buildings shatter,
When the fancy Escalades lose their power,
When you no longer step past these busy streets,
When death fills your corpse,
Will you still call it “beautiful?”

Is this beautiful? Am I beautiful? Are you?





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Bill M. said...
Nov. 4, 2010 at 12:05 pm
Yes you are, and so is this poem. It really is true what you say, and it's so evident whenever we look around.  You just captured it and put it into words wonderfully.
 
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