what they call beauty.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
poetry from year 10. Ironically, made a week before I ended up on crutches for a fractured ankle.

Submitted: April 07, 2013

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Submitted: April 07, 2013

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I don’t think you know

What it’s like

To be born to hate crutches

To be raised without crutches

To despise the

Single damn thought

Of somebody helping you.

I don’t think you know

What it’s like

To go through the motions

Without a single reason why

You shouldn’t just fling yourself forward

Until you hit the darting subway

Until you disappear in the sea of commonalities

Hell, until you finally get it through your thick head

That you can and will be replaced.

Disposable.

I don’t think you know

What it’s like

To be the rock

To be the one people cling onto

For dear life

That they think is so suffocating

Without a single idea what it’s like

To be you.

To be the rock.

They look at the ocean

They see the sea

The waves

Crashing upon the rock

Drowning the rock

Slowly destroying the rock

And the rock has no choice but to accept it and show

No fear.

Yeah, that’s what they call beauty.

I don’t think they know.

I don’t think they see.

And I don’t think that you know

A clue

About

What it’s like to be me.


© Copyright 2019 Kathryn Thorne. All rights reserved.

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