©. August 21, 2021. All Rights Reserved.
Medium: Acrylic on canvas
Size: 11” X 14”
Date: 8/20/21
Month: August 2021
The Somewhat Living Background
©. Aug 1, 2021. All Rights Reserved.
When he was 24,
She was 7
And his favorite number
Was first place.
She learned to cry
When she was 11,
Maturing to go on
A paper chase.
Integrity was questioned
Due to threats,
Reaching from her pores,
To her skeleton.
Ashes were worn
Like mid-fall midinettes.
And now, she may never
Look for someone,
Cooking dinner for
Her someday children,
When they appreciate
Oven-baked hugs.
All’s clueless,
She rejects a million men,
Offering her more than
Their wonder drugs.
We were born with
Our trust for backstabbers.
We were born with
Our trust for backstabbers.
On the daily basis,
Her mind would say,
“I’m everybody’s
Favorite failure.”
Like flickering billboards
Every Monday,
Her best has shortcomings
At her leisure.
Her worst is compensated
With crier
And she ate raw,
Sugarcoated onions.
When she bit her nails
For a rectifier,
Tickling ears
With humor weighing tons,
Her self-esteem
Became a rocky dream.
She was defenseless,
Yet had attention,
But her allegories
Were mocked supreme.
Likely rejoiced, love,
She didn’t mention.
We were born with
Our trust for backstabbers.
We were born with
Our trust for backstabbers.
Love she wasn’t accountable
For flew,
Ballooning into a
Symbol of hope.
Compelling charisma
With revenue
Was mostly desired
In an envelope.
How playing along
With the outside jokes,
Brought remote affection
To the devil.
Her sleep-deprived heart
Produced masterstrokes,
Rebelling against love
At sea-level.
She may make love to music
On airplanes,
But her words
Intimidate hierarchies
Like earthquakes and hurricanes
In her veins.
One day, she’ll make living
Her expertise.
Isaiah Lawrence 