Rebel
Aug 28, 2017 · 1 min read

There is a girl upon a log
Adrift atop the universe
Stark naked she lies
Staring up at visible silences
Contemplating vices of violence
She was knit from profound habits
That were gently wayward in meaning
But utterly surrogate in feeling
Shouldering the fate of everything
The parallels of her faith
Were spectacles dealing in nothing
Drenched in the idea of being
She peeks at shadows of voids
Her anger dreams in blotched hues
Her sadness simmers in gorgeous greys
And all she has ever lacked
Could never be ever
Oh, what splendour she promises
A willful delinquent of reality
An arrowhead of grandiose minimalism
And a rabid spendthrift in fatalism
Her true rebellions were always submissions

