I can't find the right filter for my photo.
I can't find the right set of hues.
I can't find the right melodious tones,
That would let me elicit a smile from you.
I can't find the right phrases,
Though many a time I've tried,
To put pages where my mouth is,
There's no poetry for me to hide behind.
I couldn't build beautiful things,
At the end of the day my hands ached,
From all the lumps of clay I tried to shape
Into some semblance of myself.
I wasn't able to be amazing, or even, to live,
But clad in an armor of my failures
I realized.
This thing called I isn't the perfect photograph,
Taken at the right angle to shine.
It's just a badly hacked together sequence of lines.
It's not a sonorous melody that enraptures,
It's the Band-Aids that cake worn out fingers.
If I don't have beauty, I can buy it.
If I can't sing then I'll write it.
If I can't find a filter I'll Photoshop it
And if I can't have a life,
At least I'll keep living.
DU LIEST GERADE
At The Corner Of My Eye
PoesieMore poetry involving myself, my friends, my anime and my incredible addiction to the aforementioned 2. A few rants. My second compilation. To everyone who viewed voted and commented on my first work, A Left Brain, a MASSIVE HERCULEAN THANK YOU...
