Pink Bow

A metaphor.

What a pretty pink bow, she said to me
About my veneer, the shiny coat
What a pretty paper, oh so pretty
So beautiful, they say, they can't bear to open it.

For who gives a care in the world
For what is under the paper?
For the outside is perfect, so must the inside be-
For the covering is the quintessence, is it not?

And thus we live, and package ourselves
The external beauty, it's the show that counts
It matters not what is on the inside
But rather the ribbons and bows.

And I live and breathe, just within a box
We wrap ourselves, make it look nice
Curl some ribbon, to you from me
The final touch: a bow, for show

Along comes a person who wants to see what's inside
They unwrap me carefully and take a peek
But they are not pleased, and I become a forgotten gift
I'm thrown into a corner, where I wrap myself: the final touch, a bow, for show.

Reviews

[eroticwings]

Nice poem! I too, like a a bow, for show. Nice line.

[Third Grace]

This is so true! I really liked "a bow, for show". The images and language are so bright and pretty yet they carry a dark undertone which is exactly what the poem is talking about.