(This is from a "Lightning Blog" challenge that Jesse and me were doing earlier.)

"Look at all the people"

I. Ideal.
Look at all the people,
but don't
don't
look at her
in the corner, she's
too odd, she's
got rain-covered gravestones in her
brain, only absence
in her dried lime
eyes.

II. Rational.
And if everyone suddenly left today for Heaven she would be left behind. Faceless, voiceless. She has nothing to say and no one to say it to. All of her metaphors, all of her ideas, all of her words have fallen from her mouth and smashed on the ground, exploded into a million pieces. No one listens, no one cares. And those that do are only around to consume her words to make them their own.
It really is because she is too odd for this world. Or is she mad? And when she is gone they will probably say, "what a charming specimen, too bright for this world" but she knows that's a lie. She's not a poet. She's not a writer. She's an actor. Probably one of the best. She does not know how to stop acting, really. Every day a new character. Every day a new face. Who is she anyway? Nothing inside. Nothing inside and she turns to the magazines and books and music around her for a sense of self. A new face. And new words pour from her mouth, revitalized, and smash multifaceted on the ground. She is no one.

III. Wisdom
When her heart has
given up and she
lies cold in white lace
wrapping, they
will say:
"What a charming specimen,
too bright for this world"
as if she held some strange
glowing truth in her mind that
burned her from the inside -
a million white blazing
suns.
But who are 'they' anyway?

Nothing but
lies personified.

Look at all the people,
look at the rain-soaked gravestones,
but don't look at that one,
don't look for
that girl who had
the dried lime
eyes.
She was the one was too odd,
for this world,
she was just a girl,
who wanted to be God.

-----------

End,
KB.