Honey, This Is Vanity
I’m tired of your tainted façade.
Tired of you playing your
God.
I find it funny,
your half-assed attempt at complexity.
Like cheap perfume,
your mock-sophistication suffocates this room.
Broken black bags to spill your trash,
your imagination of self-assertion slashed.
Let me get a taste of
truth.
A taste of you.
Sing your song of vanity.
Burn me up with the chorus of irony.
I see your pitiful secret,
a breach of privacy.
Like reading a locked diary.
Too tempting to stop.
Too immoral to start.
I find myself here again,
looking through that glass heart.
As black tears begin to
fall,
the face worth every penny lost.
A glimpse of her reflection
against her will.
A shadow of imperfection.
A glimpse to kill.
So when does it end?
How far do we bend?
Till we break into pieces,
breaking the trend.
And the ground taken for granted
opens up again.
Spitting out sinners’ amends
Taking all our possessions
Leaving us cold and naked,
under a sky painted red.
Breathlessly pondering what’s been left.
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Submission Name: Honey, This Is Vanity
