All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Pretty Li(e)ghts
I have a sun allergy
And people call it tragedy that I can't gaze at that burning sky
But why would I ever want to burn my eyes on the ball of gas that's wrecked my life?
Still, most would mourn the sight of light so harsh it leaves you blind.
I'll pass on that particular fire, thanks.
All my life I've warmed my hands with
The same flame that wars with liars
Claiming that shadows are necessary
They aren't- I would know.
A slow burn boils the pot, stirring truth and blowing dust from where it's thrown at those blinking with rusty eyes,
Still gazing straight on up.
The torch is a symbol of truth,
But both have always far from soothed me.
For all my talk I struggle daily not
To walk among those shadows.
Instead I stride, chin up and straight ahead
To gallows made of sunshine with shades off and stomach lead and heavy.
No one really wants to see what's left behind,
Once you've blinked sunshine from your eyes
But dammit, my eyes are clear and I need to know,
Can I come back once I go and stare into that golden lie?
Helios is a Liar
I have a sun allergy
And people call it tragedy that I can't gaze at that burning sky
But why would I ever want to burn my eyes on the ball of gas that's wrecked my life?
Still, most would mourn the sight of light so harsh it leaves you blind.
I'll pass on that particular fire, thanks.
All my life I've warmed my hands with
The same flame that wars with liars
Claiming that shadows are necessary
They aren't- I would know.
A slow burn boils the pot, stirring truth and blowing dust from where it's thrown at those blinking with rusty eyes,
Still gazing straight on up.
The torch is a symbol of truth,
But both have always far from soothed me.
For all my talk I struggle daily not
To walk among those shadows.
Instead I stride, chin up and straight ahead
To gallows made of sunshine with shades off and stomach lead and heavy.
No one really wants to see what's left behind,
Once you've blinked sunshine from your eyes
But dammit, my eyes are clear and I need to know,
Can I come back once I go and stare into that golden lie?
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
This piece is inspired by my personal experiences, as well as those of people I know. Reality is hard to face, and few people want truth over a pretty lie. I disagree, even if it means I'll never see that sweet scene myself.