3 May 2012
If beauty is only skin deep, you my dear, are paper thin. Fragile in your mortal frame, A flash of that coveted grin Wins shallow hearts. Cruel tongue, hidden behind pearls that are sharp enough To draw blood from innocents Who lay down, that you may gain some height. And yet though your narrow sight, You see only your reflection. This too will splinter into shards that will scar. The fools that laugh, are not humoured by you, They laugh in vain, for some reward, at your soul. For in this plash of being, lies no wit, Nor capacity of skill, But the lambs flock around you still For a glimpse of your summer face. But seasons pass and years will end. The trees shall be glad of you at last. And then, shall I laugh.
-------- I wrote this about my English teacher. She was mean and vain and I was not in the popular clique, so I did not matter. A terrible way for a teacher to behave to a student. Especially one who was so interested in English and writing. She was vile.
She • Opuss № I