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Senses of the Imperfect
Contributed by
AllAlone
on
Friday, 20th December 2002 @ 07:40:00 AM in AEST
Topic:
SadPoetry
|
I see....my excess protrude over my size 14 jeans
I hear....your snickers and your laughs at my expense
I feel.....the hunger pains when i try to diet to change
I smell.....the scent of a home cooked meal and give in, thinking, "maybe next time"
I taste....the food that i love so much that becomes my enemy..
I have no self-esteem
I have no Love
I have feelings
They hurt
Copyright ©
AllAlone
... [
2002-12-20 07:40:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Senses of the Imperfect
(User Rating: 0 )
by Former_Member on
Friday, 20th December 2002 @ 10:40:07 AM AEST
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| You are not alone!!! There are so many people out there with horrible imperfections. You know the people that laugh will get theirs because everything comes back to you. Besides you have a wonderful gift...poetry. Keep on writing. |
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Re: Senses of the Imperfect
(User Rating: 1 )
by OreO on
Friday, 20th December 2002 @ 12:08:35 PM AEST
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I agree with the anonymous dweller...you are beautiful inside and dont let anyone ever make you feel any different....beleive in yourself...
.:*~*:.OreO.:*~*:. |
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Re: Senses of the Imperfect
(User Rating: 1 )
by Merkaba on
Friday, 14th February 2003 @ 05:05:25 PM AEST
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| one day we will all be perfect, and put these petty differences behind us, but until then we must learn that there is no norm. |
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Re: Senses of the Imperfect
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Sunday, 21st April 2013 @ 12:28:20 AM AEST
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I'm convinced that the subtle distortion of our own physical perception has a lot to do with denial.
Vanity is denial. Good food is denial.
Baldness, poor eyesight in later years, all denial.
The beautiful specimen of your attraction, denial.
We deny I deny, everything.
Read a telling poem once, I think a woman wrote this;
it was about a pretty young girl at a high school dance, and all was wonderful, when an old man stepped in to dance with her, He wanted to deny her of her youth, which is a harsh and unpleasant thing to do.
Look around, where everywhere is denial/ at least where that wild jerk of an old odd man stood stealing youth so absurdly...
So this poem to me is not.
You made me remember a long time ago when my old man
complained just as you have clearly stated the facts.
Of course, you must be a girl.
Thanks!
Peace!
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