Poetry, Thoughtful

Boring Girls

painted-white-flowersBoring girls,
tell pretty lies.

Manipulated-bated breath,
I can only follow along,
dragged behind their sashayed swaggers.

Crystalline eyes follow me,
fractured and broken,
her eyes reflect a pond frozen-over,
the temptation to take a step,
driving me mad.

A contorted “smile”,
that creaked and wrinkled
to my untrained eyes,
tinkling, nauseating “laughter”
that made my hackles rise–
ordinary became rudimentary
before the Big Hand stroked 5.

They tell the pretty ones
to follow the North star,
as did the desperate, unbroken ones
with a language too beautiful and unique
for their awkward tongue.
They are to do as they are told,
rigid and constant
until each breathe is measured with the utmost grace.

She smiles in each and every Polaroid,
yet why did tears run ever so slowly?

Such boring girls that stand in line
dolls, so prime and pretty,
fall tragically like dominos,
one by one,
expressions of terror
identically on each and every pretty face.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s