Things you’re not

You are not your age,
Nor the size of clothes you wear
You are not your weight,
Nor the colour of your hair
You are not your name,
Nor the dimple on your cheeks
You are all the books you read,
And all the words you speak
You are the croaking morning voice,
And the smile you try to hide
You are sweetness in your laughter,
And every tear you have cried
You are the songs you sing so loudly,
When you know you’re all alone
You’re the places you have been to,
And the one that you call home
You’re the thing that you believe in,
And the people that you love
You’re the photos in your bedroom,
And the future you dream of
You’re made of so much beauty,
But it seams that you forgot
When you decided you were defined,
By all the things you’re not.

Blazing Fire

Before she burnt like blazing fire
She was Adams’s ale for ages known
Quenching the thirst of parched alone
She gave and she gave and she gave
Until she transformed from Ocean to Desert
But instead of withering from the calidity
the anguish, the agony, the affliction
She bewitched all her pain under a spell
And from her own cindering ember
Became blazing fire

What’s Ugly?

What do you think is ugly?
A broken tooth?
A crooked nose?
A stray hair?
An extra pound?
A scarred skin?
Or a stretch mark?
No, I will tell you what’s ugly.
Judgemental brain,
Malicious words,
Evil intentions,
Promiscuous sight,
Masked faces,
And selfish actions.
Look in the mirror you’ll see,
Make-up will only go so far
To hide an ugly heart.

Beauty Buried

Lay you eyes on something that's beautiful,
So unfettered and so free,
And you yearn to know the secret,
Behind possessing such a beauty, see?
So you haul it in your netting,
And you pin it to the ground,
Then prick and prod for hours,
Until its secret has been found.
You examine it so closely,
Always yearning for more,
Until when you start to notice,
Its golden blood across the floor,
You rush to find it's heartbeat,
But find silent sullenness,
And a realization hits you,
As tears stream down your face,
That the secret wasn't hidden,
Because it wasn't there at all,
It was the simple act of living,
That had you so stupefied,
That you'd spent your entire life anticipating,
For your beauty to be shown,
But in wanting someone else's,
You had failed to see your own.