I’ve been feeling so wound up about things lately that I decided to try my hand at poetry. Just an attempt at slowing down and observing life in a more meaningful way. Here’s a little something I’ve been working on. It’s still a little rough, but I like the direction it’s headed:

Society expects perfection
From those who have it not.
When you’re human with affection,
You can’t just be a robot.

Our skin sometimes breaks out
In unsightly blemishes red,
And nothing could be as unruly
As all the hairs upon our head.

And while we’re speaking of hairs,
Let’s not forget about those
Which grow where they please–anywhere,
In regions diverse and quite gross.

A body so perfect’s a present,
But does it exist? I think not.
If you look at magazines, you resent
The corrections made after the shot.

If only people looked deeper,
To what beauty is hidden within.
I don’t mean be a creeper–
Just realize people are like griffins.

Don’t be afraid to let me know what you think. What changes could be made? I think I did a pretty good job with the rhyming scheme. Well, except for the “within/griffins,” but there aren’t a lot of words that rhyme with within.