wither

I wrote this poem in high school; our assignment was to write a confessional poem.

To be bestowed with beauty,

You must feel the scum of the Earth.

With pity and lessened worth,

Your body is among death duty.

 

You starve to be beautiful and free.

Wither until the bones show

How long is the cycle, something you musn't know.

Beg for praise on frail bended knee.

 

Drone and drone, till the heart's sooty.

Fragile like flowers at birth,

Decay and suffer life's dearth.

'tis the task to be done, in the name of beauty.