trouble in paradise

I'm tired of beauty surrounding me
Laughing in my face
Screaming at me “come out and play,
Or find another place
To drown your sorrows with a song
With words that make you cry,
For otherwise you're stuck with me
Until the day you die.”
So to my haven I retreat,
My dark cave or my tower,
To pity myself endlessly,
Crying as I cower.
For beauty has a grip so tight
It's all the eye can see,
But still I wonder as I cry,
Why won't it just grip me?
I curse myself for being vain,
“It’s all just in your head,”
But if it is my mind that's sick
Why does it want me dead?
And what has beauty done to it,
Or is this just one more
Culprit that can demonstrate
Exactly what's in store
Because this isn't the first time
My mind’s screws have come loose--
The last time it resulted in
My neck stuck in a noose.
And now as these thoughts come to light,
I realize with a start
That I was never really cured--
I guess I'm not as smart
As people like to say I am,
If I can be set off
And made to want to kill myself
By the slightest inferred scoff.
In truth, most people do not care
About how I might look,
And yet I still will analyze
Each picture that they took
And posted on their instagram
In hopes of getting praise
Although, we shouldn't speak of that,
For in this social maze
There are things that go unsaid
Like how selfies ask for exaltation.
I sometimes find it comforting
To think they too feel desperation--
Although it's of a different kind.
For while they seek some prize,
I will search for hours and hours
For a light behind my eyes.
And now I'm tortured by their faces
But it is familiar to cry.
So beauty won--It mocks me still
Until the day I die.

-r.g.