#88-To All Poem by Medusa Waves

Dreaming of angels and poppies was never my style
The laughs and the chatter-and the red-pouted smile
No stars were needed to help me see,
No roses weeded to bring me to ease
Marvelous bodies, that curved like the globe
Danced and ran thru my parietal lobe
Restraining my thoughts and feelings kills my soul
Much like that nail that's removed and leaves a small hole
No one ever notices, for its left unadorned
My soul is alike this small hole, it silently mourns
Yet so small and insignificant that nobody hears
Ive always held that nail, through the small hole
Pretending its purpose, to please- for too many years
The nail of society's moral has been pulled from my soul
Leaving this small hole where all my fears roam
My dreams of these bodies, is not in vain
Its not in lust or deemed inhumane
Admiration for such art to be beheld one single human
Awe me insanely-with sinful illusion
Just a dream, as any dream goes-I awake and it disappears
Not left with much to do-but to applaud the bodies' engineers
This dream lives inside the nail-ridden hole
And my body is vacant with no holding soul