Aida

Now, I consider myself a poet, and unless you people mind, I'll be dropping poetry to and fro here, even in character, since my character is a teenage poet as well.

I have around a hundred or more poems, and they're often obscene, depressing, hilarious, angry, sad, full of pain, longing, and sometimes, love. I've done my share of romantic poems, although none really sappy, all, like real love, tinged with sadness.

Here's one I wrote for a crush of mine named Aida...I never gave it to her...because, what kind of girl appreciates poetry these days anyway? That's totally stereotypical. :)




Aida

Aida.
A simple girl’s name, if they had named you anything else
Would it have been the same?
If she had looked otherwise
Spoke otherwise
With limited eyes, what a gaze
Would it be the same?
What a beautiful face
Your soul tastes bitter, I suppose
Surprisingly tangy, but I,
I have none
And if I did
It would speak of pain and misery and endless apathy.
Eyes of discord, lips truly real
I can see them, but I cannot feel
Feel their softness, only in my nightmares
Ah, what a kiss, it angers me so
That it brings to mind such softness in a ragged soul
Oh, Aida, name me Radames if you wish
Love doesn’t need more than one
Love doesn’t need to have “fun”
Love is no different from hate, you see
Both are simply passion spliced with misery
Love is unavoidable, simply fate
Useless, temporary feelings
But at least there is that single moment
When the mind and heart do connect
And think upon one kind soul
As someone sublimely meaningful.
But by the end of this poem,
I’m already out of love
She’s only human, and surprisingly, so am I
So ends God’s simple trick of symmetry.