Pictures of Perfection

Filmstrip images flash through my mind like a ballerina gliding across the stage. 
Graduation caps floating through the air, 
Moving trucks filled with my things, 
Waving goodbye to my past, 
Saying hello to my Prince Charming, my children, my future. 
Continuously trying to find a way to breathe this futuristic oxygen into my lungs, 
Instead of this horrendous harsh air. 


Daydreaming ends all too soon, time travels outside my utopia
Strings of bad poetry flow from my hand as black mascara ribbons stream from my eyes. 
Everyday I dream of making these images real… Is it true?
Is it true that, sometimes we wonder when our dreams will become reality? 



I shut my eyes and escape the truth.
I imagine my life, not aware of my past. 
I see myself in a beautiful body, my mind in a field of intelligence.
I picture myself growing old on the front porch in my rocking chair, next to my graying husband. 
I see my grandchildren frolicking in the yard. 
Everything feels so right, yet when I open my eyes the truth crashes around me. 


This is one of the last of my poems I was able to read to my grandma. I miss her input so much. I have been struggling with writers’ block for months. I hope that one day soon my mind will open and the flood gates will start.

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