A Forth

A ton of arrogance,
I know she can’t do well without me,
Not internally.

A ton of certainty,
I’m sure she presents her image happy,
To persuade herself joyous,
And appease their wandering eyes.

A ton of ire,
I’m sure her chest burns,
From consequence of poor decision,
I’m glad.

A ton of space,
I promise she’s empty inside,
Like a beaten tin can,
That can’t accept her bruises.

A ton of insecurity,
I swear she’s still hideous,
In her eyes,
And still blind.

A ton of curiosity,
A check up on me,
Will kill the cat.

A ton of pieces,
I’m sure still forth a woman,
The rest a jest,
Presented whole.


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 )


Connecting to %s