My New Gloves

They told me not to look so 'cool',
Begged me to forget my attitude!

They say the way I stare
makes them feel, way too aware.

Don't say a word,
maybe then my world will change
crucify my soul so I feel torn form within

I cant close my eyes
and pretend I don't see...
Why wear a mask, that covers the true me?

The torment that lyes behind...

She stretches out her palms,
I slap her through the face.
I used to love once, but
now it's too painfully late!

It's over now, I've been through it.

How many more barriers to jump over,
Before the hill cracks open and I'm burried alive?

They have complained about my warm, pink golves.
I had to take my socks off my stalkings too.
They ripped my layers down, so now
form pink and warm, my gloves are
painful, cold and navy blue!

by Iva Didova

Comments (1)

Iva, so many people change who they are to satisfy or fit in with everyone else. Those who don't are refreshing, go back to the pink gloves. Great poem, wonderful message! ! Brian