Pretentious Poetry



Do you see what I see? A face

Shining white, pressed against the pane

Staring wistfully into the distance

As drops of rain whisper along its surface

Gently caressing the hair caked with mud

Hair that has been unwashed since life began

Knotted and caked with dirt, the ratty clothes

Torn at the shoulders, shoulders thin

Shoulders weak, as the bones struggle to break

Free of the skin that contains them, the weakening skin

Skin dotted with little scars that tell their own tale

A tale of fight that began with life itself

A fight that has left its burdensome marks

A fight that ends only in endless night

Do you hear what I hear? The patter

Of scurrying feet as they rush to the cars

Cars glistening in the sun, callous cars, a prison

Gates that shut out the world selling its wares

As the light changes colour, they stare accusingly

And as I stare back at them, eyes filled with remorse

Eyes that see a lifelong battle, lost without the shadow of victory

Eyes that look upon their death filled faces, a girl

A girl passes by this prison and she smiles

A face worn down by the cares of the world and yet

In that moment when her lips curve upwards I knew

There’s more to life than this, the memory

Of her face, that naïve, trusting face

Leaves me with something that has begun to turn into hope

Did you see what I could see?


5 thoughts on “Iris

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