A ßeautiful ƒąult

ƒault born(e) on two broken wings,
Defective from the very beginning.
A set of words, a  [h o l l o w] string;
What graceful, pointless songs we §ing.

No one hears because no one will listen,
Too focused on the perfect vision.
A  |u|n|i|q|u|e|  life, a waste of time?
In what horrid, disgusting world am I?

What good is a life made so colourful
When the world passes by and ignores it all?
What good is one who can take a §tand
But can never gain the upper hand?
Bloody battles fought and lost hopelessly;
How can we go on with this travesty…?

A ßeautiful  ƒ a u l t  born(e) on two broken wings,
My existence was shattered from the start, don’t cry;
Just ignore like the masses, become a perfect doll;
Live a dream of fakery and lies.

While I,
My own ‘til I die, fade
                                         s l o w l y
                                                               a  w  a  y  ~

--

Note: I'm not particularly brilliant at poems -- nor very skilled at writing the structure of it -- favouring novel-style writing over lyrics and so on, but I do rather like this piece. The theme was supposed to be "imperfection" but I feel I strayed slightly; still, I do like what it ended up as. :)

=Ace

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Last updated 268 days ago by Ace