Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Selfie, you see


Expectations on me run high,
But spare me that potential bit,
For talent, I seem to have nigh,
Save for the flashes in whit.
Make up, I do try to, what I lack,
Paired up, with my sweat,
Dedication behind every act,
Outcomes in moderation might beget.
Caressing my failures in disquiet,
The first instinct is tears,
Buried within a raging quyot,
A scarlet mound of fears.
Aim for the sky, they say,
And reach for the shiny stars,
What’s the price I have to pay?
A soul seared with scars?
Continue I may with aspiration,
But, I shan’t be deemed special,
Struck I am with the revelation,
In the universe, am just a speckle.

1 comment:

  1. There is an old saying that goes something like "It is not winning, it is taking part". Life is not necessarily building castles but just taking park and touching others lives. This is especially so with writing. So perhaps your last line should be "(I) am just a sparkle".


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