there she is
here she comes
like a blank
page she was
innocent before
they told her
they loved her
before they used
her for their
pleasure then called
her a whore for caring
about them
she used to be
a page of love
a page of life
no matter how
many times so was
scribbled on
ripped off
crinkled up
and threw away
she always believed
the next guy to
unravel her would
do right by her
and again she
is taken advantage
of and recycled
again
eventually her fibers
will become worn
and she will be
unable to be reused
but she hopes maybe
someone will look
past all the scribbles
and markings
past the ripples in
her soul
and gaze upon
the bigger picture
but it begins to
fade each time
she has to erase
each false
fable every man
writes on her just so he
can get within her sheets
here she came
there she goes
just a ripped out
page of a tragic
book
Interesting the way you see people inscribing themselves onto other people, or inscribing other people onto themselves. This metaphor seems to come up naturally, maybe because expression through writing is so close to us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amanda is not the figment of imagination, she is a reality. It uncovers the dirty face and hypocrisy of our society. Hats of to you fr such a thoughtful poem. Thanks a lot, Eugene.