Painting Promises

From the time we are children, we paint promises.

Promises about sharing our lunch, the bunch of brightly colored silly bsnds, worn so proudly on our wrists,

Unaware of the risks, we take when painting promises.

As we get older we paint promises in our heads, of things that may or may not happen.

We promise to get into this college or that, promise we'll be top of the class.

We promise to be pro athletes,

Unaware reality creeps, behind us, ready to shatter the promise the second we look away.

One lonely night a man nearly twice your age, calls you beautiful.

Through eyes full, of tears you believe him.

Because one of your biggest fears, is not being beautiful to a man.

He paints promises of marriage, children, and white picket fences.

You let down your defences, reveal parts of your body that are priceless.

Because after all he swears, he promises, they are safe.

He knows just what to say, just how to make you feel.

Only to let you discover those perfectly painted promises plastered on a pornography reel.

Leaving you to wonder, will I ever heal?

How can this be true? Am I even pure........anymore?

Leaving you with a broken heart, scars that can't be erased.

The world's longest race, and still you can't run far enough away from them.

Promises are paper thin, especially coming from him.

Almost all promises, however beautifully painted, aren't true.

So be careful, when you, are painting promises.

This poem is about: 
My community


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