The Poster Child

I’m about as beautiful as a train wreck,

Chaotic, crazy, and a mess,

But I occur almost naturally, nearly

As an odd sort of reminder

That the world’s not always

What it’s cracked up to be.

I’m a caution,

A warning tune, set

The music so others can swoon

Over what they don’t ‘understand’

But strangely enough it, in the end,

Sounds a whole lot like home

To them.

A masterpiece of malevolence,

Ambivalent and precarious,

A poster child with no purpose, other

Than to remind you that,

Occasionally, people tend

to be worthless, and

that its a whole lot easier to

look without and be judgmental

than daring to take that nasty little

peek within.

So, really, in the end

I’m just another martyr then.

Pushed out on my pedestal,

risen above the line of normal, well

of normal society for others to see.

Seen as a bad prodigy

of broken homes and poverty,

Used as an excuse to keep in line,

restrict the mind from getting loose

and getting in to whatever hellish

vices I’ve let win and,  with that in mind,

let’s try this again.

I’m about as beautiful as a train wreck,

Chaotic, crazy, and a mess,

But I occur not so naturally,

manufactured rather intentionally

As an odd sort of reminder

That the world, like with everything and all it seems

isn’t ever going to be anything more,

than  someone’s really messed up scheme.

___________________________________________

I pulled this guy out the scraps after abandoning ship on the poem I had today. Just wasn’t feeling it, so I  just moved on and logged it for a later day. This one does feel a bit too cumbersome in the end, but I think it works out alright.  You’ll probably be seeing another draft of this coming out eventually.

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