I can see you, up there,
on your own pedestal,
as I stare through your eyes like a kaleidoscope:
swirling images of glory,
nowhere near the truth.
And my body language is a foreign tongue,
and my eyes are closed to you,
and my syllables seem to be at a pitch
that your sub-human ears can't detect,
from so far down beneath you.
As you worship and caress your reflection,
you'll never feel me
as I slip into the night,
never remembered except as a nagging feeling
of something important forgotten.
Author notes
Prompt: "Who do you think you are?"
A contest entry
- A Fistful of Prompts by VoltaicHypnosis.
750 points, ended July 4, 2008, 18 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
WOW! This BLEW ME AWAY! WOWOWOWOWOWOWWW!!!!!!!
Thanks for the entry and good luck!!
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