In my mind, a perfectly versed masterpiece
glowing with optimism, waits for my acceptance...
yet I do no host a fearless heart.
No, I am more akin to a feather,
silky and undiluted on the edges,
but filthy and crippled in the center.
Not knowing that anything was wrong,
you smiled at the times I tried to fly,
keeping your eyes toward the same sky
we both begged for in our worries.
I foster darkness in the basement of my mind,
never penning that flawless write
or illustrating pictures and pain,
never quite knowing where to store
my dishonorable feathers.
And you, you don't collect me when
I am shot down,
but then again, how would you know
unless I showed you?
-
Written 7/14/14 @ 8:37 PM
For Saffie's Number Game. Here are the prompts:
In the basement
feather
not knowing that anything was wrong
fearless heart
pictures and pain
