I used to draw eyes

I used to draw eyes.

 

Things beautiful and bright,

Made of shadow and light,

Some obscured, full of tears,

Rounded by surprise or by fears.

 

Maybe I needed someone to cry for me,

Or maybe I needed other eyes to see,

To give me a different perspective,

Or to see me, something reflective.

 

I used to draw eyes.

 

And then, one day, I just stopped.

No more of those eyes popped.

Maybe I finally saw what they’ve shown,

Or maybe, just maybe, I learnt to use my own.

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Dark side of the world

A dark and a light, a good and a bad,
Are they the same or a different dyad?
It’s the first thing you thought, isn’t it?
That it’s the bad, the evil, the odd and misfit.
But think about the dark side of the moon.
Once it’s far, about that unrelated balloon
We know it means just the mystery, hidden,
With no judgment attached to make it forbidden.
What if we turned other things around too,
Changed the perspective to give us a clue?
Maybe the things we so often despise
Look quite a bit different seen through the eyes
That are used to darkness and all of its shades,
And we may finally stop our crusades.
Don’t mistake one contrast for the next,
It just gives ignorance an easy pretext.

Facets

A crystal with a thousand facets,
A different scene reflected in each,
A different colour and flavour
To compose the rainbow of you.
I got cut countless times
Trying to turn it on the face I want,
My mind slipping and fracturing
Trying to switch in between them
While understanding the whole of it.
It looks simple from afar,
A straight wall of static images
But there’s more to accommodate up close.
I’m a three-dimensional being
Faced with a four-dimensional puzzle,
Every facet of you an entire world.
We know what the fourth dimension is,
And it should be fine from now on
But my, how terrible us humans are
At dealing with problems of time –
We’re abysmal at predicting the future
And even worse at learning the past.
So I find myself scrambling,
Stretched thin on the edges of you,
The laws of distance and position
Changing from one turn to the next.
The best I know what to do
Is take each facet at a time,
Completely disjoined from the rest,
Remind myself there is more to it
In the times when I land on a piece
That does its best to push me away,
And desperately try to forget the same
When we land on the ones I enjoy,
Hoping you’ll take pity on me
And make it a long to permanent stay.

The key (challenge)

Found a rusted fist-sized key,
Growing from a secret garden.
What its use could possibly be,
A challenge and a pardon.

A hammer makes your troubles
All look like they are nails,
So check if your key doubles
Into locked doors your tales.

It’s up to you what way it goes,
If you’ll let it get you down
To see so many options close
With just one key to go around.

Or you could focus on the key
And learn to see solutions
So tell me, what you’d have it be,
Advance or disillusions?

A/N: this poem is in response to¬†Sara’s challenge (click for original post). I might have cheated a little bit, since my key leads to a way of thinking rather than a place, but hope you still enjoy it!

Makeup

There are so many people out there telling girls
That they should wipe the makeup off and be ‘natural’.
Almost as many as those who look me in the eye
And ask me why I don’t wear makeup more often.
But the thing is, you form impressions about people
Within seconds of first meeting them,
And I’ve seen people focus way too often
On the colour of the lip gloss when you wear it;
On the shade of the eyeshadow when you put it on –
They only realize there’s a smile underneath,
They only notice if the eyes crinkle at the corners
When you leave everything else bare
And don’t give their gaze any other hold.
I want to be that sincere, imperfect smile,
Rather than a gorgeous, ravishing mask.
I want to be a pretty… amazing person,
I want to be a beautiful…ly written story,
I want the alluring part about me to be my personality,
The delightful part, my conversations,
The dazzling part, my intelligence.
I would rather have people look at me in surprise
When I do take the time to put makeup on,
Than have them baffled when I take it off.
It’s a choice, and I’m aware mine is the odd one,
But if you don’t care to see the beauty of who I am,
It’s a waste of both of our times to get caught up
In painting an illusion on my face only.
So go and find your wide-eyed blushing maiden
While I leave my cheeks naked and make up my soul.

Battle with myself

I hate it when you hurt, I dread it if you cry,
But sure I am allowed to care for my tears.
Of course I could let it all go, away to fly.
Ignore it all, the pain, all that my soul sears.
Just tell me if that’s what you want and I’ll let go
But still I wish you wouldn’t claim that I be my own shadow
‘Cause, goodness, how I fear I’d really do it so
And lose myself in the world’s dull and boring meadow.
For higher proof it isn’t that your heart wasn’t for me,
Not for the girl, the human, mortal, that always sins and errs,
But for that glassy-eyed perfection of distorted reality,
That not a semblance to my self could ever hope it bears.

And yet, in my deepest of hearts there is another pain,
Another fear, of myself this time, that I wouldn’t be able
To do it all, forget myself, still both my heart and brain,
And this be proved to be just brag of my soul’s unstable
That I’m not so much of an angel as I claim to be,
Not able to put you before, my happiness aside,
That there’d be one small part to say love’s less than me,
And that all my reproach and sadness is unjustified.
How mean of me, to accuse you for seeing angels in my place,
That are so far from who I am, I know they are. And so do you.
But still I am in this unreal quest, interminable chase
To make a martyr of myself, perfection coming true.

And all this while loving life, admiring what I am,
How can I contradict myself so much, how can I suffer such?
And every time I’m given paper I’m starting to condemn
You, life, myself, who cares, since it doesn’t leave a touch?
But now I realise my one and only disappointment,
The one I hid and tried to keep, so lazy and complacent
With which I always do delay that one final appointment,
But to which I can’t quite help but always be adjacent,
Is, plain and simple, just myself. I’m so not what I could,
And what I sometimes wish I was. I am indeed the vestige.
I badly need infinities of love, for making me feel good,
I’m sorry I chose you. But now I’d die, if you happen me neglige.

Please forgive me. For getting caught in the crossfire
Of the battle with myself. I have only one excuse
For risking ruining your life. But I can’t help admire
The light that ever comes from you, that turns my wounds into a bruise.