Avatar

Avatar

A Poem by Poetic License

I have become an Avatar,
Haven't we all?
We simply had no name before,
This great technological age defined us.

Such great care I give,
To applying my visage in the morning,
An hour, sometimes better, 
To perfect what I wish others to see.

Then begins the careful arranging of locks,
Another half an hour,
Spent in prayer to the gods of Chi and aerosol,
Until the picture is just right.

The colors and fit of the clothing,
Down to the labels tucked inside,
The tightening of corset strings, 
Oscillating before the vanity meter.

What to do about the foot covering,
Such variety, color, texture,
A shade too dark may betray the whole picture,
A heel too low may bring the portrayal to naught.

Accessories must be hand picked,
An eye given to metal and gem equally,
To finish, to length, to size,
The harmonizer of face, hair and body.

My Avatar comes together,
A face graced with over $200 of makeup,
Hair manufactured by 400 degrees of heat,
Clothing to fit a body 10 years younger, shoes to pull it off...

So also my Avatar's personality blooms,
The easy, laughing smile,
The Irish eyes dancing with ferocity,
The perfect balance of flirt and shyness.

She is my greatest masterpiece.
I dedicate all money and time to her,
I worship her and recreate her daily,
I add to her holdings as befits a goddess.

She is everything I wish I truly was,
She is the only thing I wish the world to see,
She is my emissary,
She is my Avatar.

And me?
I am simply me.


© 2017 Poetic License



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Reviews

This literally hit me hard. I am left speechless. Thank you so much for sharing this and giving my morning some food for thought!

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


Ironic when you look in the mirror sometimes you see someone else.but when other people look at you in the same mirror, they just see you.this is a well crafted thought written as a wonderful story to read.thank you

Posted 3 Weeks Ago



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Added on October 27, 2017
Last Updated on October 27, 2017

Author

Poetic License
Poetic License

MO



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There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. - Hemingway Fyrene ond fæhðe fela missera, singale sæce, sibbe ne wolde wið manna hwone m&ae.. more..

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