What Are Magazines
+8Many years ago, or something, our answers came from the Bible.
Its pages so flimsy and yet so strong, reminding us of ourselves.
But today, today we have magazines, with pages so glossy, slick, thin as sticks, the way people want to be.
Magazines tell us what to do; they tell us how to dress.
Magazines tell us what our waist sizes should be, and what we should, online, confesses.
We would be lost without Magazines, state the fools of this twisted century, for magazines tell us important things, like how to style our hair.
And magazines are filled with the cutest boys, and like they tell us how to flirt.
The sauciest angle to yank down our shirts
but what of the girls who are lonely?
What of the girls who are Goth?
What of the girls who are something unique, coated in black or not?
We walk alone, unrewarded, unseen, peering around stacks of magazines.
And when sad and lonely we may look, but there is nothing for us in that book. There are not mo-hawked boys in there, no boys with trench coats or long hair.
There are no sales on Lolita skirts, no posts for Metallica or Disturbed concerts.
There are no tips for a lonely soul; the only escape seems to be a pole.
If there is anything you were thinking of buying, just look at the model and you’ll start denying
This poem was written/submitted by lisha len.
