Captured Beauty: Melancholy

Captured Beauty: Melancholy

Eyes of the largest pools of innocent
charm reflecting back to the viewer
exactly what they want you to see.

Life’s questions motives, hears only
silence.

The eyes stare, not with hate
as some imagine. Easier to claim
disgust, a shake of the head or shrug
of the shoulders than to look inside
self.

You see me in the places where you
have walked – I was the loner, whom
all claimed was unapproachable,
while I wore my jeans that never
seemed washed, hair long and
sometimes unwashed for days,
adorned in a black leather jacket
when cold over an ever-present
T-Shirt that was underwear during
winter and outerwear during summer
while upon my face the scowl was
ever present.

Perhaps I was the hip nonconformist
priding themselves on keeping sane
while a World tore itself apart.

Am I the tender beauty whose eyes
have observed enough of the
injustice in my time to flee inside
mind and save that small place
where I might cower or relax without
the unfairness that seems the
established norm today. My hair I
need to cover all or most of my face
because there are villains that are
walking about in plain sight and
working to destroy youths futures
behind closed doors.

I could be the class clown who while
making people laugh at my antics,
was observing all and trying to see
the truth within people.

Was I the ner’ do well whom, most
grownups gave up as lost, dense,
radical – not seeing the true beauty
before them bearing up under pain.

What now when even our society is
split amongst right, wrong, kinda.

You wish for me to leave the safety
of an environment I can control and
move all out into your ideological
self-realized “myscape” then accept
that as the status quo,
pppllleeaassee – hello any active
brain cells moving about in there.

Who decided a few people should
determine the course for millions,
that should scream loudly about our
system of living being flawed.

So I have constructed a wall inside of
my mind where brick by brick I built
over time, upon hurt after hurt and
I shelter there, against pain, injustice
and unfairness practiced as the
norm today, against theft and
mocking those who are the victims.

I do not stare to offend, only while
behind my wall I do not wish to speak
to anyone. Not, rude just please a
little space to hide from this World
and it’s angry at times persistent
demands on my time.

I share this with you, I use my hair as
a shield and a shout out to others
that you are not alone, we are not
any better than other people, just
different. Shielding my eyes from
stares and smirks or even ridicule
is not unheard of, being abused or
bullied because I do not look like
some politician, or hair cut like the
military is no ones business but my
own.

I like me as I am, please try liking
yourself – it works.

So you look into my eyes of guarded
resentment and you think I blame
you, I don’t even know you.

I can see every finger of resentment
pointing inward from my brick wall,
straight towards me. I do not need
to be constantly reminded. The status
quo is doing fine admonishing
me in my own head with droning
droning droning – yesssch.
Sometimes I want to ralf.

Hey, haters of my hair or perhaps that
I wear mascara as a guy, or too much as a
girl, so what.

I love, too. There is a cute guy at
work that I am ga-ga about, though it
would not show on my face; or that
there is a woman who I am love with
whom I would hug her forever, if she
acknowledged that she even had feelings
for me.

I have a heart, it can be hurt.
I have feelings, they can be abused.
I have opinions, they can be debated.
I have choices, I have made one.

I stay veiled behind my hair and
I build my wall a little higher, seems
safer and the pain is mine to carry
alone.

Poetry “building my wall” Thursday

Advertisements