I was looking back at some old blog posts of mine and found this “poetry” that I wrote a long time ago. It goes quite well with what’s going on in my life right now.
Sittin in a room painted blue, with a heart so cold. The anger and pain eats away at the person who was once so bold. Love doesn’t exist today, it’s only turned completely grey. No comprehension of the other heart. Willingly throwing a dart..hoping it will pull you through. Driving, striving for the picture you once drew. The family of seven held together with love and kindness, but now its just all grey. She cries at night praying for a better day but secretly knowing it will never be that way, Tears fall as the picture of perfection fails to exist. The reality of a family broken in pieces…unreal, unknown a secret only the few know the truth. All else is an act, an act of perfection, of the picture once drew..the family of seven held together by love and kindness. It’s only an act, the truth yet to be revealed. Such imperfection. Such discomfort. So unknown and unreal. The picture of perfection.
I think if I went through and edited this a bit, it’d could be really good. I might, if I stop being lazy.
Originally posted: Picture of Perfection 2/25/07