Plastic

She lives in a broken life

holding onto anything she can hold onto

only to find her arms

 

          empty.

 

The world flies by in fast motion,

swirling in hurricanes of chaos.

And she lets herself be swept up,

     fooling herself that she is keeping pace,

          discovering she’s just being tossed

               in the wind.

Her world is angry and unforgiving.

Demons lurk at every corner,

sinister intentions in their upturned mouths.

Her existence is jumbled and confusing.

It’s only when she’s neck deep

     that she realizes

         

          she can’t swim.

 

And she can no longer pretend her sins don’t exist.

She plays the understudy part in God’s screenplay,

     recites prose for the devil,

          wonders if they’ve prepared her cubicle

               in hell.

Her bed is a burning inferno,

her costumes nettles and silk.

The quiet screams around her.

At night she collapses in a nest of doubts and fear.

And every morning she puts on her

          plastic smile

and faces another day.

Reviews

[Antonio Valentino]

Amazing write Autumn!

"And every morning she puts on her
plastic smile
and faces another day."

Well you could just frown and mope all day, but that isn't you is it.
You are much stronger than that, and you're a survivor.
Keep fighting your fears, and keep treading water.
The day will come when the whole world smiles at you,
and you genuinely, smile back.

Bless you dear friend.

[Mike Zentz]

I have to agree with Tom. Great poem, really liked the visual organization and the supernatural imagery intermixed with realities like a cubicle

[Thomas James Martin]

Talk about realism! Great lines some of these. I especially liked: She plays the understudy part in God's screenplay,

recites prose for the devil,

wonders if they've prepared her cubicle

in hell.

I really did like this poem.

Tom