The disappointment of age bears desolate desperation
-Hidden, camouflaged, and prettified by the rosy cheeks of youth.
These cheeks, the cheeks with a pinch of arrogance, do protest their
own perfection.
The shine, the innocence: the glow of such radiant bliss
wasted on the inexperienced incompetence.
They long for the victory of a vivacious battle won, but neglect
the possibility of failed swoons and deep, knife wounds.
They show on the face, they shine in the soul,
and they can not be trapped in a simple portrait like that of Dorian Gray's.
It shows a sincerity, a longing to experience all of the senses
like the vibrant Rimbaud, intertwined to prodigy... but a tragic spiral lays ahead, spinning and tunneling into the woods, void of hope, void of light and ready to smite.
Their faces, full of angst, full of sunshine, soon to rot in the quickness of self-exploration.
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