Media

A Poem by Fay

Media
The world is trapped in a claustrophobic suffocating box of confusion.
I'll be honest, being that I have only existed for sixteen years I don't know much about life. But I do no that the media.
The wicked witch from the west disguised as Dorothy.
The evil stepsister in the form of cinderalla
The shiny red apple that's actually toxic poisin

The media that is hibernating under Ur own bed sheets it is tucking u into a false reality.
The media is morphing your mind to belive that looking at someone and feeling an attraction.that is loving someone
But humans that lurk the earth,know that attraction is a natural force that exist between two different beings. And that when your eyes find pleasure in the way his hair parts in a nonchalant tassel and you find your chest erupting in a volcanoe of laughter.know that ,that is not love.that Is merely gods nature and a clever punch line .
And when your running through a field that is infested with daisies and Lillie's and your waiting for Ur heart to inflate with freedom,like the flawless tampered Barbie your mind captured on the Pantene commercial.
I'm sorry if the only thing u feel is the damp rocks beneath you blistering your toes. And I'm sorry that u can't see the art work in front of you because the sun is blinding your eyes and the wind is sending ropes of knotted hair to your face.but most of all I apologize because you won't stop running until your heart feels what the scripted commercial promised you you'd feel.
The media is a sham
The media is editors and film makers and directors.its hair dresser and make up artists grouped together to stage a play that will entice the human mind and lure them away from their reality and whisper in their needy ears that there's a better life high above the pavement.
Wheee there's damsels in distress but there's a prince that'll always be perched atop a white horse.
Where friendship lacks the authentic thread of fighting and biting.
Where families are puppets stationed around a plastic dollhouse ,scripts tucked into their shirtsleeves, rambling off speeches they didn't concoct.because their mouths are used a pretty tool to capture the world and rant about the unattainable life that no human can hold in their desperate waiting arms that have bin outstretched for far to long.
So please, don't let the media hold a cracked glass in front of you eyes. Don't let it blur your vision of reality and don't let it rocket your expectation sky high only for it to crash miles below the pavement.
Just know that the pavement is rich with beauty and raw calloused happiness.it is drunk with the homeless and the giving. And it is infiltrated with the ugly misers and the exotic artisans.and it is filled with broken homes and homes that are being stitched delicately and patched ambitiously.its complex and clear.its art and literature .
It's the life you were bestowed