Feeble existence,
One who hungers
For fame.
The deficit of perfect
Beauty,
A closeness with
Death.
The heart a
Restless organ,
Flown to its
Aspiring height.
Longing in
Leaving,
Her road
To the pinnacle
Of LOVE.
Writing, the Universe and whatever occurs to me
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We all have our own images about ourselves
‘The deficit of perfect
Beauty,
A closeness with
Death.’
Maybe worrying about our bodies is something we need to be careful of. Women have been abused over the years with images for models, the image is only slowly being torn. Anyway, words well written 🙂 I like your work 🙂