the image, torn away, betrays

the image, torn away, betrays
the emptiness of much we
seek and value;

your heart's weighed down by many things:
but just continue hiding all that,
shall you?

if only perfect bodies we,
or perfect families, jobs, or
maybe smiles

if only we'd go viral, or
be known and loved for stories, or
for styles

the image, torn away, betrays
the isolation of
our heart's recess

where lonely in a silent room
we ponder all it costs to find
success

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Beleaguered Servant